Double Trouble
by Jedi Goat
Summary: GoF. Sixth year was shaping up to be interesting for Fred and George Weasley, especially with the new twin victims - I mean, homeschooled students. Adventures and pranks abound, and isn't the Triwizard still on? OCs. Series of one-shots, no pairings yet.
1. Trouble Brewing, Part 1

**Double Trouble**

Jedi Goat

**Author's Note:** The Double Trouble series is a collection of Fanfic100 one-shots revolving around Fred and George's sixth year at Hogwarts, which is incidentally the first school year of homeschooled twins Alex and Riley Hunter. I decided to compile them as one story so as to lessen confusion as to the order. And spoilers. *grin* However, many of my FF100 stories pertaining to other years/other AUs can be found on my profile; if you're looking for the master list of what I've finished so far and where/when they fit in, check the table on my livejournal. :)

**Warnings and Other Stuff:** Yeah, there are OCs, obviously. I put a lot of work into developing what I hope are well-rounded characters, and I would love feedback in that regard. Nevertheless - for those, like me, who are leery of OCs in general - I assure you the focus shall still remain on our favorite pranksters. I'd like to think by introducing the Hunters I can better contrast and explore the different relationships between twins. (And no, I don't mean twincest ... sorry...) This chapter also includes foreshadowing as to future shipping ... find it if you dare! *thunderclap and evil laughter*

**Title: **Trouble Brewing, Part 1**  
><strong>**Prompt: **001 - Beginnings**  
>Summary: <strong>In which Fred and George taint the innocent minds of the two new home-schooled students. If they only knew what delicious trouble the Weasley twins were plotting... Introduction to "Double Trouble" series of my Fanfic100. OCs present.

* * *

><p><strong>Trouble Brewing<br>**

George was sure he'd never seen a more welcoming sight than the proud scarlet engine poised high above the crowds milling around platform nine and three quarters. Exhaling in relief, he at last slowed his heavily laden trolley to a stop, brushing thoughtlessly at the hair plastered to his forehead as beside him Fred muttered ruefully about the rain having ruined nearly half his supply of fireworks. Somewhere behind them, that runty owl of Ron's chattered exuberantly in reply to the many owls hooting lowly across the platform.

"Well, then," Mrs Weasley declared rather breathlessly, as the last of the drenched family trudged through the barrier behind them, "you have a good term, all of you. I hope you all get to see ... the exciting things happening this year."

George started to ask, for what felt like the hundredth time, what it was she kept hinting at – but Mrs Weasley was now distractedly hugging the nearest people, who happened to be him and Fred. Ignored protests muffled, they struggled valiantly, and Mrs Weasley accidentally knocked their foreheads together; George painfully blinked back stars as her voice warned sternly overhead, "And _behave_ yourselves now. I've just about had it with the owls from school."

She let them go, and the twins staggered away, George still rubbing at his head. Fred caught his eye and nodded toward a nearby compartment, where Lee's dreadlocks bobbed into view; seizing their opportunity, they grabbed their trunks and went over to where Lee was already forcing his luggage into the overhead shelf.

"Need a hand?" George grinned.

Lee gave them a dirty look over his shoulder. "What, and have you transfigure it into a goat again?" With a final defiant grunt he pushed the trunk into place and stepped aside. Grinning, the twins quickly stowed their own trunks and headed back in the direction of the group on the platform to say their goodbyes. As he jumped off the train, however, Fred nearly tripped over a smaller blond figure boarding; said boy sniffed and turned up his nose, brushing off his sleeve.

"Watch it, Weasley."

"My apologies, Malfoy," Fred said with a healthy amount of sarcasm, stepping away from the blond Slytherin. "I didn't notice your Highness there."

"Yeah, maybe next year your father'll reserve the royal carriages, and you won't have to take the train with all of us dirty commoners," George chipped in, purposefully brushing past him with Fred on his heels. Draco Malfoy's eyes had narrowed and a fine flush had come to his high, pale cheeks, but the twins were already out of hearing range.

"All the better for us, I hope he does, anyway," Fred muttered, and George smirked.

They returned to the cluster of Weasleys in time to hear Mrs Weasley promising Harry that he could stay with them over Christmas if he liked. "But with things as they are this year," she evaded, "I doubt any of you will be eager to leave Hogwarts."

"What things?" Fred demanded at once, but Mrs Weasley only smiled mysteriously and moved on to hug Ginny. George, meanwhile, set his sights on his older brothers.

"What's happening at Hogwarts?" he asked Bill and Charlie.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough, I suspect," Bill grinned broadly, reaching out to ruffle his hair even as the sixteen-year-old ducked and grimaced at him.

Charlie added, "You're lucky, you lot, to be back at Hogwarts this year."

"Yes, and I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you all tonight," Mrs Weasley promised. "Now, hurry along, the train's about to leave."

Fred shot a last, furious look at Mrs Weasley, who was busy waving off Ginny and didn't notice; George attempted the puppy-dog look on Charlie, who merely laughed and gave him a shove toward the waiting train. A shrill whistle sounded; people were leaning out the windows and waving to relatives below.

"C'mon," George muttered to his twin, turning for the train. "Let's just go ask someone who's _not _full of themselves."

* * *

><p>Alex Hunter kept a steady grip on the handle of his trunk as he cautiously maneuvered down the aisle of the train, peering into each compartment filled with chattering students as heassed. For several minutes a steady rumbling had been growing louder beneath his feet, mirroring his increasing apprehension; now abruptly the train lurched forward, and behind him a blond figure stumbled, catching himself against the wall and cursing under his breath.<p>

He shot a warning glance back at his twin, who narrowed his eyes but promptly shut his mouth, and the two of them continued onward. They had nearly reached the end of the train by now without sighting an empty compartment, and the feeling of disquiet tightened in the base of Alex's stomach. He was uneasy to intrude on any group of friends, and earlier some older students had glared at him when he asked if they had room in their compartment. It wasn't exactly a warm reception, and his first hopes at finally attending Hogwarts – the finest wizarding school in Britain – were beginning to dissolve into uncertainty.

Up ahead, a door was open; Alex was drawn from his musing as a drawling voice floated over them. "– You should listen to the Mudblood, at least she's got some sense."

Alex stiffened; by that tone alone he knew trouble was brewing, and almost unconsciously he ventured nearer to the open compartment. The back of a silvery-blond head came into view in the doorway; two taller and muscular teens framed him, shoulder to shoulder.

"That's it, Malfoy, I'll -!"

"You'll do what now, Weasel?" the blond boy, Malfoy, drawled. His two beefy companions had stepped forward, the sharp crack of their knuckles breaking the stillness.

Wizards or not, Alex could read the signs of tempers flaring, and any moment now a brawl would break out in the middle of the train. He had yet to see any professors around to moderate them – and if he didn't do something soon, someone was going to get hurt. Stepping forward, he cleared his throat. "Excuse me, is there a problem here?"

The blond boy turned back, giving him a very dirty look; he had a face much like a rat's, Alex thought absently, thin and pointed. Malfoy smoothed down the sleeve of his robe, which Alex had jostled accidentally. Then Malfoy's silver gaze flicked up and down, his lips drawing in a tight sneer.

"Who are _you_?"

Alex decided complacency to be the best approach, and proffered the hand that wasn't lugging a heavy trunk. "I'm Alex, Alex Hunter."

Malfoy didn't move to take his hand. "Hunter ... never heard of you. Just as I thought, another Mudblood. They attract one another like flies," he finished with a delicate shudder, his nose wrinkling. His eyes roved up and down again, over Alex's plainly Muggle attire, consisting of a loose buttoned collared shirt and jeans. Both Malfoy and his companions had already donned long black robes with a silver and green badge in the left corner, and Alex felt a small prickling of concern that he had no such robes; what if it was standard to wear them now, on the train?

He was saved from reply when behind him a second figure poked around the doorway, partially shoving Alex aside. "Oh, stop being an idiot," Riley Hunter growled at his brother, and Malfoy's thin eyebrows shot up. Huffing out an irritated breath that stirred his unruly blond fringe from his eyes, Riley turned on the three robed students. His eyes went past them to three students in the back of the compartment: a redhead and a black-haired boy on their feet, and a girl with bushy brown hair sitting behind them clutching a ginger cat to her chest.

"Hey," Riley jabbed a finger at Malfoy's chest, though his eyes and words were directed to the teens behind him, "are these guys bothering you?"

Something snapped as Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he delved his hand within his robes, flourishing his wand. "Stick your nose in your own business, Mudblood," he growled, "or I'll put it there for you."

"I'd put that away, if I were you," Alex said amiably, though his fist had gone white on the handle of his trunk. "We don't want to fight you. Do we, Riley?" Though his words were spoken lightly, the look shot sideways at him was of pure warning. His twin considered for a long moment, his blue eyes narrowed at Malfoy as though sizing him up.

"No," he admitted reluctantly, clenching his jaw. "We don't."

"Now," Alex smiled, "that's settled. If you could just move..."

"I don't take orders from people like _you_," Malfoy sneered. "We'll leave when we feel like it."

Very suddenly Riley surged forward, closing a fist in the neck of his robes; the two large boys moved toward him warningly, but he ignored them, his eyes blazing as he yanked Malfoy forward, leaning down to hiss in his ear. "I suggest you feel like leaving _now_, while you can still feel anything at all."

"Riley!" Alex shouted, starting forward; Malfoy thrashed in Riley's grip.

"Get your filthy hands off me!"

The boy on the left lunged, fists bared; Riley was faster. In an instant he had dropped Malfoy like a sack of potatoes and swung around, landing his fist squarely in the boy's jaw. A loud howl split the air as he stumbled back next to Malfoy, clutching his face.

"You insolent –!" Malfoy raised his wand.

"Don't you dare!" three voices chorused at once. Alex had just pulled his wand from his back pocket and, glancing in surprise over Malfoy's shoulder, saw the two other boys had done the same. Riley, breathing hard, did not move, massaging his fist; Malfoy's eyes had gone rather wide and he turned full circle, aware he was surrounded.

"You've overstayed your welcome, Malfoy," spat the redhead, fire blazing in his eyes as he stepped forward, prodding him in the back with his wand. Malfoy's lips curled in distaste, but his haughty words failed him now.

"If you try to lay a finger on my twin," Alex said calmly, "you'll be six feet under before you can say 'dead'."

"And for your information," Riley growled, "we don't appreciate being called Mudbloods. Particularly because we aren't. And I'm sure that girl doesn't either." He inclined his head slightly in the bushy-haired girl's direction, whose eyes widened minutely in surprise.

"Very well then." Malfoy tilted his head upward, defiantly wielding what remained of his dignity. "Crabbe, Goyle, let's find somewhere that doesn't stink of Mudblood." With that he wrinkled his nose and shoved past Alex's shoulder, tailed closely by Crabbe (cradling a bloody lip) and Goyle. Alex watched them go with his wand still in hand, hearing him mutter, "How many _twins_ are there here anyway? Unnatural bastards ... When my father hears about this..."

The black-haired boy stepped forward and slid the door shut, blocking out Malfoy's drawling voice. "Good riddance," he relished. Now that the silver-haired boy was gone, all the previous fight drained out of the room; currently the three boys lowered their wands, each grinning somewhat sheepishly, and the redhead gave a low whistle.

"I've been wanting to do that for years, mate. Nice punch," he approved with a nod to Riley. The blond shrugged, flopping down next to the bushy-haired witch and massaging the growing bruise on his knuckles.

"That hurt..." he muttered. "What's his face made out of? Rock?"

"Suppose his brain is, too," said the redhead, and then extended his hand. "Ron Weasley."

"Er – Riley Hunter. And that's Alex, my brother." He shook Ron's hand.

"And this is Hermione Granger and – and Harry Potter." Ron had hesitated for a moment, stumbling on those last words, shooting the black-haired boy a quick, almost apologetic look.

"Are you really?" said Alex curiously, as he and Harry shook hands. In what seemed a well-practiced motion he reached up and pushed back his fringe, revealing a jagged lightning bolt scar.

He _was_. Riley whistled softly and Alex nodded respectfully, but neither ventured further queries, and Harry's shoulders eased as he bent, retrieving Alex's trunk off the floor. "C'mon, we've got room."

After several moments of struggling and shifting their luggage around, they had successfully crammed five trunks in the overhead compartment and now settled back, Hermione clutching the irate ginger tomcat so that no one trod on his tail. Ron turned thoughtfully to the twins. "Oi, we've never seen you around. You can't be first years, can you?"

"Nah," grinned Alex, who was easily as tall as Ron and slightly wider in the shoulders. "We're sixth years, but we've been homeschooled magic up until now. We went to a Muggle school until this year, actually."

Hermione now looked intrigued as she set aside her book and leaned around Ron to look at him, imploring, "Really? Are your parents both magical then, or -?"

But Riley was staring at Ron, who had gone somewhat ashen in the face, as though someone had slipped murtlap essence in his drink, and slumped down in his seat. "What?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"It's just ... well," Ron confessed, "you two're in Fred 'n' George's year."

Alex and Riley looked at one another. "Who're Fred and George?" Alex inquired warily, glancing between Harry and Ron, who were now grinning as though at some sort of inside joke.

"Ron's older brothers," sniffed Hermione, burying herself back behind her book. "They're troublemakers, both of them."

"And bloody identical, like you two," Ron finished. At that Alex and Riley exchanged fleeting looks, the glimpse so instantaneous that the boys missed it. Hermione, however, continued to watch them over the top of her book with a thoughtful furrow to her brow.

"Don't say we didn't warn you," Harry meanwhile said brightly, standing up just as a smiling woman appeared in the hall with a trolley loaded with sweets. "Anyway, you want anything?"

They chatted over Bertie Bott's Every-Flavoured Beans and Chocolate Frogs and by the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station, several hours later, rain lashed at the windows outside; the sky had darkened and low clouds drew as tightly as a cloak around them. The trio hastily donned their robes – their red and gold badges indicating them to be Gryffindors, Alex now understood – and the five of them hopped down from the train, joining the slew of students trudging along the platform. A gigantic figure loomed over the crowd, the light of a lantern flickering off pale faces as his voice bellowed, "Firs' years, firs' years over 'ere –"

"Suppose you're to go with them?" muttered Ron, ducking and clutching his hood over his ears. Alex shrugged; he was utterly lost, the crowd was steadily pushing them sideways, and Riley beside him looked agitated enough to kill small animals.

"C'mon, let's just get up to the school," suggested Harry, and he led the way along through the crowd, struggling against the wind threatening to blow them all off their feet, and up into the momentary shelter of a horseless carriage. They had all barely flopped back in their seats, breathing out sighs of relief, when the carriage lurched to life, rocking and bumping along its path. Alex squinted up through the sheets of downpour and his heart skipped a beat: there, up on the hillside, the feeble glow of golden lights flickered through the night; the castle was a mere silhouette against the dark backdrop, but it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He leaned across, nudging Riley, who glared at him; his twin had gone a bit ashen in the face and clutched to the edge of his seat.

At long last the carriages drew to a halt and the five joined the stream of students pouring into the Entrance Hall. Alex tried to look around at the arching ceiling, the shining suits of armour, and the flickering candle-brackets all while watching for puddles underfoot. Above the crowd, a translucent figure floated upside-down with a nasty grin and an armful of water balloons, gleefully dropping them on unsuspecting students.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried forward, heads ducked and hoods raised, and Alex mindfully took after them, checking that Riley was still trailing behind him. A pair of high ornate doors stood open at the end of the Hall; as they squeezed forward to the opening Alex's jaw dropped.

"_Wicked_..."

The domed Hall was aglow with floating candles, illuminating the many pale faces of students seated at four long tables, each draped in rich fabric of green, red, gold, or navy; golden plates and goblets glimmered; at the head of the room sat who could only be the professors in a regal row; a low murmur of chatter was nearly drowned out by the boom of thunder overhead, and glancing upward Alex saw the ceiling was overcast in gray and black, a mirror of the sky outside.

"Miss Granger, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley." The group turned in surprise; a tall woman with her hair tied back in a strict bun now surveyed them over her spectacles, her thin lips forming the smallest smile. Under her arm she carried a three-legged stool and the ragged, patched shape of a hat.

"Evening, Professor McGonagall," Hermione said, and Alex noticed she was also staring at the hat. "Is the Sorting -?"

"About to begin, yes," Professor McGonagall said in a clipped tone. Her eyes roved to the two drenched blonds looking on curiously, standing out like a sore thumb in their Muggle clothes. "You would be the Hunter twins?"

"Yes, ma'am," Alex affirmed, self-consciously straightening. He noticed with dismay that Riley slouched, hands in pockets, eyes half obscured behind his sopping fringe.

"You two, follow me." The Professor turned and swept down the hall, the tail of her emerald cloak billowing after her. Alex shot a curious, hapless look at Harry, who nodded encouragingly. Ron offered a thumbs-up, to which Alex grinned uncertainly before turning and following Professor McGonagall, Riley on his heels.

* * *

><p>At that moment, Fred and George were struggling through the crowd; Fred had just sighted the three younger students up ahead and, beaming sideways at his twin, strolled forward with his arms grandly outstretched.<p>

"Now look who made it here in one piece!"

Ron turned to them, making a disgruntled face. "We can take a train by ourselves, you prats."

"You do make us worry sometimes, you must admit," George sighed dramatically, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "We have to keep an eye out for our dear little Ronniekins."

"Geroff me," Ron muttered, shrugging off his arm. George grinned evilly and now reached upward, playfully mussing his hair as Ron complained and struggled loudly. Meanwhile Fred turned to Harry.

"Who was that with you?"

"Er – you wouldn't believe it if we told you."

Ron had at last escaped with his hair slightly worse for the wear and now fumed silently with his arms crossed, standing a careful berth away from his brothers. George turned his attention back on the others. "This isn't the same thing Mum's on about, is it?" he chipped in.

Harry shared a look with Hermione; both quickly glanced away, fighting off smiles. "You'll find out soon enough," she promised vaguely.

"Dear me," said Fred, with an air of great shock, "I believe, George, they might be pulling one over us!"

"For shame," agreed George, amused by the fact that Hermione's face changed by several shades of red and Harry smirked not-so-innocently. "I think they _are_ hiding something. What's the best course of action, Gred?"

"Torture and information retrieval?" suggested Fred, digging in his pockets and surfacing with a yellow cream-puff like candy, which he proffered innocently in Hermione's direction. She steadily avoided his eye, pushing his hand away.

"We should get inside. The Sorting's about to begin."

The trio plus the twins settled in seats at the Gryffindor table, near the end, where they were soon greeted by various compatriots and Seamus said, "So what about the World Cup, eh?" as he took a seat nearby with Dean. Soon they had dissolved into their various conversations, though Harry kept glancing over toward the grand oak doors as though waiting for someone.

And then quite suddenly he had stood up, calling to someone in the tide of students. In the next instant two tall blond boys had squeezed over to them, both beaming.

"Hello again," said the boy on the right, who was perhaps a half head taller and stockier than the boy trailing in his shadow.

"Did you do it? Get Sorted, I mean," Ron said eagerly.

"We're in Gryffindor," the first boy elaborated, his grin broadening.

"M-hmm," said the second boy, cocking his head. "Looks like it's Malfoy's lucky day, and we won't be giving him hell, after all."

Both Harry and Ron grinned at that, whereas Hermione pursed her lips disapprovingly; nevertheless in moments Ron was shifting them all down the table to make room, and the two blond boys sat down between him and Harry. The taller boy glanced about curiously, nervously tugging at his collar, while his companion examined his fork and knife.

"Who's this?" Seamus leaned his elbows on the table, peering around Harry.

"Oh – er, sorry, I'm Alex and this is Riley," said the first boy, proffering his hand and shaking with Seamus, then Dean, as introductions were exchanged.

"They're new students," Hermione explained, "they've been homeschooled, they'll be in sixth year. Alex, Riley, you should probably talk to the Gryffindor Prefects, they'll be able to show you around –"

But at that moment Fred cut her off. "Hold on just a sec. I believe you've fallen into our area of expertise."

"Yeah, who needs Prefects, when you know the school as well as we do? Even the secret passages –"

"Especially the secret passages," contributed Fred. "I mean, the teachers don't even know about half the places we do."

"Suppose we should introduce ourselves," said George, offering his hand.

"We already know who you are, that's all right," said Alex, warily eyeing his open palm. "You're Fred and George Weasley."

"Our reputation precedes us!" declared Fred, beaming.

"All right, Ron, what sort of lies have you been telling?" George accused. Ron's ears flushed scarlet.

"I wasn't lying –"

"Ah, now we know you're Fred and George," Riley said knowledgeably, grasping George's hand and vigorously shaking it. "I think I like you already."

George grinned unabashedly. "Excellent, I sense a gratifying working relationship in the making." _In other words, unsuspecting product testers, _he added silently, turning his smirk on Fred, who was rather distracted watching someone else. A little louder, George went on, "I see Miss Granger put in a good word for us with you. See, she really loves us, deep down," he added in explanation to Riley as the witch in question flushed deep red.

"Oh, shut it," said Ron, who had picked up his fork and now craned his neck, peering toward the head table. "Hope they hurry with the Sorting, I'm starved..."

"Yeah, I could eat a Hippogriff about now," Riley said with relish. "How's the food here?"

"Like you wouldn't believe," said Harry with a reminiscent smile; Riley nodded, apparently satisfied, and resumed hungrily staring at his empty plate just as the grand doors burst open behind them.

A sudden apprehensive hush fell over the Hall as Professor McGonagall swept in, followed by a crowd of nervous eleven year olds, the patched hat and three legged stool carted under her arm...

_To be continued..._

* * *

><p>It was insanely long, so I cut it into two parts... ^^ So what do you think? Any and all constructive criticism would be much appreciated!<p> 


	2. Trouble Brewing, Part 2

**Double Trouble**

Jedi Goat

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter. Alex and Riley are mine to *ahem* torture as I see fit. :D

**Author's Note:** We're back! Please don't be confused by the beginning - I cut to the end of the feast, as I'm sure that if you really wanted to read about Moody's arrival and Dumbledore announcing the Tournament, you would read the book. ;)

**Title: **Trouble Brewing, Part 2**  
><strong>**Prompt: **001 - Beginnings**  
>Summary: <strong>In which Fred and George taint the innocent minds of the two new home-schooled students. If they only knew what delicious trouble the Weasley twins were plotting... Introduction to "Double Trouble" series of my Fanfic100. OCs.

* * *

><p><strong>Trouble Brewing<br>**

The Gryffindors headed upstairs, still eagerly discussing the Triwizard Tournament and ways that they might slip past the underage limitations monitored by some ominous "impartial judge". Only Hermione seemed to be less than enthralled by the subject at hand, and instead busied herself pointing out passages and introducing important portraits to the Hunter twins as they ascended the moving staircases. Alex was nodding solemnly, listening to her every word, whereas Riley had started to hang back, his hands in his pockets.

At the moment George went quiet, mulling over the possibility of fooling the judge with an Ageing Potion – _it's virtually undetectable,_ he mused, _and we really only need to be a few months older ... It wouldn't be too much trouble to slip the ingredients from Snape, after all.._. He turned to voice this suggestion to Fred, but his brother was distracted, grinning in Hermione's direction. They were now approaching the Fat Lady's portrait and she was dutifully explaining their password system and curfew with a solemn furrow to her brow.

"But Hermione, the castle's the best at night. You should see it sometime," he objected to her warnings. Hermione flushed and glared at him.

"And you wonder why you lose us so many house points!"

"I'm not wondering," shrugged Fred. "If anything –"

"– we're just always wondering how we can lose ourselves more," chipped in George. "Balderdash." This aside was directed at the Fat Lady, who nodded primly as her portrait swung open; a moment later he led the way into a round chamber lined with plush red chairs. A fire was already roaring in the hearth; the view out the window was of a blackened, starless sky. The year's Prefects were currently there, coaching a tightly knit group of first years. _They seem to get smaller every year, don't they?_ mused George, before tuning back in.

"Welcome home," Fred grinned to the awed looks on the Hunters' faces. "Well, we're up here. C'mon." They bid goodnight to Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the common room and Fred led the way up the winding staircase to the sixth landing. By this point Riley muttered something about hating stairs.

The dormitory was a circular, rather cramped room; burgundy-draped four-poster beds surrounded them, with a window to one side. Their luggage had already been brought upstairs by the house-elves, a trunk lying at the foot of each bed; moreover, two trunks leaned on the floor near the door, both stamped across the top with 'Hunter'.

"This'll be brilliant," Fred said happily, stretching his hands behind his head as he ventured across the chamber. "We always thought there was something missing in our year's dynamics. I mean, there's us, and we can't complain about our own roguish handsomeness, and Lee's cool, but Kenneth Towler's a disappointment. There's usually five in a year, you know, so there's an extra bed and everything –"

Alex and Riley exchanged rapid, alarmed glances that went unnoticed by Fred; Riley cleared his throat and looked at the floor as George said amiably, "Fred, your math sucks. There's six of us here, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Oh, yeah, good point." Fred scratched his head, staring around the room. "Well, suppose we make up one of those Muggle hammock things –"

"With what?" asked Alex sceptically, an eyebrow raised.

"Blankets," said George automatically, grinning. "We know where the extra linen's kept."

"You know what, don't trouble yourselves for me," Riley interceded, stepping toward his trunk. "I can just go and sleep on the couch downstairs or something."

"Of course not!" Fred adopted a highly affronted air. "What sort of hosts would we be then?"

Riley threw up his hands in self-defense. "Guys, I'm dead tired and honestly could care less ... I'd gladly sleep on the floor right now, even."

"Well, simply enough, someone's got to bunk up," said George, hands on hips, turning to his twin. "Reckon we could probably switch off."

"Not sure Lee and Towler would be big on it," Fred said lightly. "Especially after the pyjamas incident."

"Ah, yes, I forgot about that," nodded George. "You up for it then?"

"It depends. D'you snore?"

George grabbed the nearest pillow and flung it at Fred's head as he ducked, smirking. "I'll take that as a yes, then."

"Shut it." George turned, hands on hips, to the Hunters. "Anyway, how's that? We'll make room. You can have my bed tonight." He pointed to the bed nearest the window, grinning. Riley hefted his trunk over to the bed indicated, dropping it with an audible _thunk_.

"We decided then?" Without waiting for a response he tugged out an armful of clothes and marched toward the bathroom.

"Thanks for this," Alex began, turning to them, but Fred waved him off.

"Don't mention it. After all, 's the least we can do for you newbies."

Alex smiled slightly, gratefully, and dragged his trunk toward his new bed, apparently unaware of the significance of the gleeful gleam in the Weasley twins' eyes as they exchanged triumphant glances behind his back.

* * *

><p>Dawn light was just breaking through the curtains when George blinked awake, finding himself lying on the floor. For a moment he contemplated the effort necessary to untangle his legs from the mess of blankets still half on his bed. Then, as his muddled brain grew more wakeful, he realized it wasn't even <em>his<em> bed in the first place – his was over beside the window.

With a heavy sigh he kicked a way loose of the covers and sat up, peering up at Fred who had his face buried in the pillow, blissfully unaware that his strewn limbs had pushed his twin from bed. George rolled his eyes and reached over, prodding his shoulder.

"Fred. _Fred_." His brother shifted, burrowing deeper into the pillow. George narrowed his eyes and poked him harder. "Fred!"

"Whatzzamatter?"

George rolled his eyes. "New kids. Initiation. Remember?"

Fred groaned faintly and rolled over, rubbing a fist over his eyes. Leaving him to muster his senses, George marched halfway across the room to retrieve the necessary supplies from his trunk, momentarily returning with a sloshing bucket of water under one arm and a box of Filibuster's under the other. He blinked; Fred was snoring again.

"Prat," George muttered, turning away. _That's it,_ he swore, mentally including Fred in the list of those to be pranked this morning. It would serve him right for kicking him out of bed. George gingerly set down the water-filled bucket and fireworks on the bedside vanity, now frowning slightly. He was missing something, but what? _Cold water, loud noise ..._

_Ah, right, burning hot coals._

Smirking to himself, he padded on cat's feet across the room, the door creaking as he headed downstairs; with any luck, the house-elves had left some remnant of the common room fire from last night, and he could be back upstairs and in bed before anyone else decided to get suspicious. As he placed his foot on the last step, however, the slightest noise made his well-tuned troublemaker senses go on full alert; slowly, keeping low and inching toward the cover of the nearest couch, George advanced into the common room.

At first, he only saw a person's back standing in the middle of the room; then he caught the flicker of blond hair, and exhaled in relief. It wasn't a professor after all – and what the hell would they be doing in their common room, anyway? George mentally kicked himself for being so paranoid – and he now watched the Hunter boy's motions curiously.

After a moment, he concluded it to be Riley – since he was slighter than his brother, and a nick shorter as well – his unruly hair flopping in his eyes as he flailed at invisible enemies. Punch, punch, _punch_; a steady rhythm to a melody only the blond could hear, muttering to himself all the while. George stood up from his hiding place, clearing his throat loudly so that Riley jumped and whirled around, his eyes widening.

"W-Weasley? What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I could ask you the same," George said amiably, advancing and sinking into a plush armchair, arms stretched grandly over his head. "What's that you're doing?"

"Er – exercises," Riley said, moving to sit on the couch across from him and idly swiping the back of his hand across his sweaty brow. "You know – well, have you ever heard of Muggle martial arts?"

George shrugged; the term wasn't particularly familiar, but he thought he could guess the purpose, from the movements.

"Well, I was pretty good at karate, back at my Muggle school, I mean," Riley mumbled. "The classes were required, since I was on the fencing team."

George inclined his head, smiling politely, though he was struggling with the mental image of Riley putting up fences, pike by pike. Muggles had competitions for that? He deemed it better not to ask, and instead merely pretended that he knew what he was talking about.

"I dunno, it's kind of comforting, I guess, to do the exercises and let my mind wander. I couldn't sleep anyway." Riley, self-conscious that he was saying too much, stared at his hands. George shifted and cleared his throat.

"So, er, is this your first time at a wizard school?"

"Yeah," Riley said quietly, "we were homeschooled. Our Mum taught us."

"What about your father?"

"We don't talk about him," he said flatly. "I think he's a Muggle businessman or something."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Never mind." Riley shook his head with a hapless grin. "What about you, what's your family like? Ron's your brother, right?"

"One of five, yes." George grinned as Riley's eyes widened and he appeared to have choked on his spit. "Three've already graduated – one's a curse-breaker, one works with dragons, one's with the Ministry – and then there's Fred, who is not quite as awesome as me, and then Ron. I've got a sister, too – Ginny – in third year."

"Bloody hell," said Riley, staring at him, "and I thought it was tough growing up with _one_ brother."

"You've been sheltered, my friend," George beamed. "But Fred and I clearly had the best time of it, we got to team up and bugger the hell out of everyone else. But that reminds me, I was going to ask you – and my apologies, you're probably sick of the question – but you and Alex are fraternal twins, right?"

Riley rubbed his hand along his jaw, grinning weakly. "Is it that obvious?"

George shrugged. "You could say I'm perceptive. Also, though you look similar enough, you're just..."

"Different," Riley finished for him. "Yeah, I know. People mistook us for identical up until we were about eleven ... that's when Alex started his growth spurts," he added quickly, and George had to laugh.

"So you're the short twin, too? I'll let you in on a secret then..." George leaned forward conspiratorially. "You can't notice it unless you're looking closely, but Fred's an inch and a half taller than me. Lousy git somehow took after the rest of the family." He winked in exaggerated fashion and Riley shook his head, half exasperated, half amused.

"Well, I'll keep that in mind so I'll always be able to tell you apart."

"Oi!" George sat back, arms crossed. "We take pride in being identical, you know!"

Riley snorted, also crossing his arms. "Yeah, well, Alex's always prided himself on keeping his hair _neater_ than mine. What a git."

"That's interesting." George rubbed his chin. "Because, you see, even if we're identical, it seems it's always Fred who gets the girls. Must be something he's doing, like that, that I'm not, because I'm obviously the wittier one."

"You're also the most humble," Riley added dryly, causing George to grin widely.

"Oh, no, you've never seen Fred on a good day. Ego, my arse."

"So this is you being humble."

"By comparison, yes." George straightened and flicked imaginary dust off his collar, preening.

Riley rolled his eyes, sinking lower in his armchair with his eyes closed. Over his shoulder, it had started to lighten through the high stained glass window, and a glance at George's watch proved it to be nearing seven o'clock. He'd have to hurry upstairs if he wanted to put their plan into effect, George noted absently, his eyes lingering on Riley who seemed to have dozed off in front of him. Nevertheless, the very fact of his presence rendered half of the prank useless. _Ah, well, there's always tomorrow,_ George told himself, at last standing up and stretching grandly.

Through half-closed lids Riley glanced up at him; George rolled his shoulders experimentally. "I'm thinking about breakfast, how about you?"

Riley perked up at that suggestion, sitting up and openly yawning as he extended his arms over his head. "Sure – it's the same place as last night, right?"

"Yeah." George glanced down at his too-short pyjamas, grimacing, "We'll have to get changed first, though." He chanced a look at Riley, who was dressed in baggy sweats and an overlarge tee, and something occurred to him. "Hey, d'you have your uniform and all?"

Riley hesitated, frowning in thought. "I'm not sure – Alex said something about them bringing us some, or something."

"That's all right." George started upstairs, Riley trailing him curiously; in moments they ducked through the door and crossed the sleepy sixth year dorm, where George stooped over his trunk. He rummaged for a moment before tossing a bundle of clothing in Riley's direction.

"Here. Take this."

"But..." Riley blinked down at the Hogwarts uniform in bemusement.

"S'all right," George waved a hand as he dug for his spare tie, "we're practically the same size, anyway, so you can hold onto it for now. Best not linger too long, else we wake our dear brothers, right?"

"Right," Riley deemed after a moment of reflection, and headed off into the shadows to change. George swapped his pyjamas for his Hogwarts jumper, tie, and robes, and he was just readjusting his collar when Riley returned to his side, fiddling with the loose ends of his – George's – tie. His assumption had been spot-on, George noted; they were nearly the same height, and the jumper was only slightly loose about Riley's shoulders, and he had rolled up the too-long sleeves.

George pressed a finger to his lips and the duo crept silently from the dorm. The door creaked shut softly behind them, leaving the Gryffindor sixth years blissfully none the wiser to their narrow escape from their fate.

* * *

><p>The journey down to the Great Hall was without issue, though Riley found himself quickly confounded by all the twisting hallways and George's apparent insistence to duck down every shortcut possible, dragging him by the elbow.<p>

"How the hell d'you keep it all straight?" Riley asked, aghast, as they stumbled out of an unused passage behind a tapestry and Riley brushed cobwebs from his hair, glancing up and down a dark corridor that looked the same as the last.

George only winked secretively and tapped his temple. "Pure genius, that's what."

"Great," Riley muttered, "I'm so dead then."

He was relieved when – finally, a familiar sight – the pair of broad oak doors from last night rose in front of them. From within the Great Hall came a murmur of chatter, and as they entered, the Gryffindor table looked rather less grand with only a straggle of bleary-eyed students seated along its length. Riley's eyes went to the stacks upon stacks of food, his stomach growling appreciatively, as he and George sat down near the end of the table. Meanwhile, George made a show of greeting the group of three girls already seated there.

"Good morrow, fair ladies of Gryffindor," he proclaimed, sweeping into a deep, mocking bow as Riley piled his plate with sausages and eggs. He received nothing more than a wide yawn from the dark-skinned teen for his theatrics, and Riley assumed the girls were well versed in his particular antics.

George, on the other hand, didn't miss a beat as he took a seat, grinning. "Angelina, Alicia, Katie, meet our new partner in crime, Riley. Riley - meet girls."

"Hey," said Riley thickly, swallowing a mouthful as the dark one, Angelina, nodded to him; black-haired Alicia surveyed him curiously; and the brunette, Katie, smiled slightly before becoming very interested in her toast.

For a while George was content to relay most of last night's activity with his usual flair; in between his narration, Riley learned that Angelina and Alicia were his classmates, whereas Katie was in fifth year, and all three were members of the (supposedly famous) Gryffindor Quidditch team. Riley rolled his eyes as he listened to the tale, not exactly surprised that he didn't recall it happening quite as George described, especially the part where they fought and won an all-out duel with the Slytherins on the train. At this point, he wasn't exactly sure what to make of their new acquaintances (Riley wasn't sure he would call Fred and George "friends"), but he thought the girls' temperance of all George said with a grain of salt seemed to be a healthy enough precaution.

In short order, Professor McGonagall swept past their table, handing out slips of parchment. Riley glanced down curiously at the two thrust into his hands.

"Er –"

"Timetables," George said, snatching them up before he could read them. "Oh, good, you two've got the same classes as us. You're taking Divination and Care of Magical Creatures, too?"

"Er, I guess so," Riley said blankly, pulling the parchment back to read for himself, his brow furrowing. "How's today look? Charms, History of Magic, and Defense in the afternoon."

George made an indistinct noise in his throat. "It's not horrible, mind. Depends on Defense – what with our new teacher and all..."

They hung around, chatting, mostly about their different professors and George's "helpful" warnings about Professor Snape, until they were at last joined by Fred, Lee Jordan, and Alex. Around a yawn Alex explained that some spare school uniforms had indeed shown up in the night and were waiting in their trunks. He also tried to teach Riley to properly knot his tie, but after five frustrated minutes both twins gave up, turning away from each other with irritated huffs. "You can be so dense sometimes, really..." Alex muttered.

At last, once they were all stuffed to contentment and idly chattering about their summer adventures, a bell sounded in the distance. Fred stretched as he stood up.

"Time for Charms, then?"

The group headed off for their first day of classes together and the start of a new year. And with Fred and George as their companions, well, Riley figured, grinning along with the Weasley twins' banter, they were in for what was guaranteed to be a wild ride.

_The End._

* * *

><p>Next time ... Potions class. Be afraid. Be very afraid.<p>

Please review! Any and all feedback is duly appreciated! :)


	3. Potions for Dummies

**Double Trouble**

Jedi Goat

Author's Note: This prompt is in no way, shape, or form sexual, I swear. Even though the prompt word makes it look like it is.

**Title:** Potions for Dummies  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> 038 - Touch  
><strong>Summary:<strong> The Weasley and Hunter twins in the first Potions class of the year. Slytherins don't seem to know when to let things lie.

* * *

><p>Early on in their sojourn at Hogwarts, the Hunter twins were introduced to the hell called double Potions. It was early on a Thursday morning; the twins stumbled down the endless winding corridors after Fred's lead, yawning widely. They had long since immersed themselves in the cold, stony depths of the castle dungeons when their identical guides came to a halt.<p>

"Right then..."

"...don't say we didn't warn you." Fred strode into the cold classroom first, tailed by George, Alex, and Riley.

"Hang on," muttered George as they walked along the rows of desks crammed into the room, each topped with a cauldron set on a boiler, "there's not going to be enough seats..."

"Bet Snape did that on purpose," Fred grimaced. "C'mon, let's pair up."

George nodded to Riley and headed to his place at the back of the room. Snape had long since split him and Fred up – currently his twin and Alex sat in the row in front. The duo had just settled onto the bench, Riley rubbing his numbed fingers together, when the doors banged open behind them.

Professor Snape glided into the room like a giant ominous vampire bat, surveying them all over his hooked nose. "Today," he drawled, "you will be working on Cheering Potions, which if you have any memory at all will recall from last year's OWL exams. Also," his gaze seemed to linger in the Weasley twins' direction at this, "you should remember your ... unsatisfactory results. The instructions are on the board. Begin." He swept past them, black cloak billowing in his wake, and Riley had just breathed a sigh of relief when Snape snapped, "Weasleys, surely you remember _one_ _person_ per cauldron."

"There's not enough seats, sir," Fred pointed out quite honestly, but the defiant way he said it made Snape curl his upper lip at him.

"Very well. We'll see if these newcomers can improve on your dismal potion-making skills. Though I highly doubt it."

Riley was beginning to feel sweat drip along his brow. He could quite clearly recall nearly blowing up the house several times while potion-making – he was rather absent-minded and accident-prone.

"I really hope you know what we're doing," he hissed to George, who shrugged.

"We'll see, shall we? Want to get the ingredients, or should I?"

They got to work, with George mainly directing Riley to tasks such as skinning the boomslang skin and measuring out exactly a teaspoon of erumpent essence while he took charge of the actual potion. In front of them, Fred and Alex already had a white mist simmering off their potion; they were poring over the textbook instructions, muttering to one another.

Riley had just begun chopping up slimy frog's liver when a boy approached their worktable. He had a face that reminded him of a rat – thin and rather weedy, with short brown hair. A Slytherin Prefect badge glimmered on the front of his robes.

"I didn't know they let in Mudbloods after first year," he remarked lazily.

"What do you want, Pucey?" George snapped without looking up from their cauldron.

"Just welcoming the newcomers," the Slytherin said with a dark smile. "My Mother's on the board of governors – apparently you couldn't even pay tuition to come here before this year."

"Shit," Riley hissed, as his hands, shaking in anger, slipped on the knife and blood began to well from his index finger. Still brandishing the knife, Riley raised his eyes to the Slytherin. "Shut it."

"That's a load of dung and you know it," George said in a low voice, staring the Slytherin Prefect down. "Now why don't you piss off before we decide to slip more Shrinking Solution in your pumpkin juice?"

Pucey's face paled considerably and he scurried off without another word. Sucking on his bloodied finger, Riley inquired, "Shrinking Solution?"

"Third year," George nodded, reminiscing. "Whole lot of Slytherin were about a foot tall for a day – pity McGonagall caught us. Oi, lemme see that, I've got some bandages around here somewhere."

George rummaged in his pockets – "Ah, here we go." Riley proffered his bleeding hand wordlessly, and George took it up with surprising gentleness in his rough palms, winding a thin strip of white cloth around his finger.

"I'm guessing you two get in a lot of mishaps?" Riley raised an eyebrow.

"You could say that," George acknowledged, smirking. "Hey..." His smile vanished. "About what Pucey said earlier –"

"Yeah, it's true," murmured Riley, very quietly. He ducked his head. "We got our Hogwarts letters when we turned eleven, but... Well, the way things were, Mum couldn't afford to send the two of us. We've saved up our money since to pay tuition."

Surprise widened George's eyes; but then he recovered with his usual smile, quickly knotting the bandages around his hand and letting it fall. "Well, we're glad, at least, that you came. Don't mind the Slytherins, they're bloody gits to everyone."

Riley, blinking at this sudden gesture of friendship, slowly smiled.

"Yeah... Suppose I can always punch 'em again..."

This, of course, initiated more storytelling as they finished off their potion and sat back, discussing the incident on the train. Their Cheering Potion wasn't quite the bright yellow it was supposed to be – instead it looked rather like mustard, which was probably due to the frog liver they used being contaminated with blood. Riley tried to apologize, but George waved him off.

"Let's just nick some of theirs – Alex must be smarter than I've given him credit for, 'cause there's no way Fred could've figured it out on his own."

"I heard that, you prat," Fred said from in front of them as he flicked spare frog guts at his twin.

_The End._

* * *

><p>Oh look, there's a bit of backstory for you. :)<p>

Coming up next time: pranks and hijinks abound in _018 - Black_.

Please review!


	4. Weasleys at War

****Double Trouble  
><strong>**

Jedi Goat****

Author's Note: This one is for Lucy Beale, who said Alex needed more screen time. I threw in a shirtless Fred, too, hope you don't mind. :D****  
><strong>**

****Title:** Weasleys at War  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> **018 - Black**  
><strong>Summary:<strong> **George and Riley take out the earlier-mentioned initiation/revenge prank on Fred and Alex. Consequently, all hell breaks loose at Hogwarts. Enjoy. :D**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Weasleys at War<strong>

Jedi Goat

Fred Weasley emerged from the shower, scrubbing a towel through his tousled hair as he blinked around the lighted deserted dormitory. He grimaced faintly, his movements stiffened as he tried to avoid jostling the bright red burns on his forearms and wrists; at the very least, the ringing in his ears had gone down, so he could at least appreciate the blessed silence.

His gaze fell on his bed in the far corner, the sopping wet covers still lying in a heap at the end of the mattress, and his eyes turned stormy. "You thought that was funny, did you?" he muttered as he kicked open his trunk, fishing out a fresh jumper and wincing as he wormed his way into the sleeves.

"You're gonna pay for that ... you're gonna bloody pay for that, George," Fred hissed through gritted teeth.

It was an unspoken rule: a Weasley twin did not, to the best of his ability, prank another Weasley twin. It was unfair, they had agreed, to the rest of the school, who had to suffer in the light of warfare between the two greatest nefarious minds known to Hogwarts since the days of the Marauders themselves.

Now George had gone and thrown all caution to the broadside, as he had so kindly chosen to wake his twin that morning in blasphemous fashion. Having a box of fireworks set off beneath his mattress on its own would have set him on the war path; the oh-so-kind manner in which George had seen fit to dump a ton of icy lake water on him had Fred leaping up, ready to strangle the one responsible.

George was just lucky, Fred mused darkly, that the firecrackers had stopped him before he had the chance to wring his cheeky neck. Yes, he was one lucky little bastard to have gotten away with pranking the self-proclaimed master of the craft and - even worse - ruining his beauty sleep.

"Sodding git," Fred hissed, carefully tugging his sleeves down over the burns and marching toward the door. "You know what this means. _War_."

* * *

><p>"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," George said airily as Fred sank down across from him at the Gryffindor table. He received only a guttural growl in response as his brother reached for the bacon and eggs. "Did you have a nice sleep?"<p>

"Keep smirking," Fred muttered, "because your hours are numbered."

"Lovely," George said without a trace of fear. "I guess you enjoyed the gift Riley and I left you? The fireworks were his doing, you know."

"I thought the plan," Fred muttered from the corner of his mouth, glancing with his eyes narrowed along the table to where Alex and Riley Hunter were poring over some last-minute assignments, "was to scare them out of bed, not us."

George shrugged, "It was, but circumstantial evidence pushed me to change my mind."

"Yeah? What's that then?"

"Did you know Riley's into Muggle martial arts?" George said conversationally, stretching his arms grandly above his head and yawning.

Fred stared at him for a long moment, his eyes narrowing. "You bloody _coward_."

George smiled sweetly back at him. "Just something to keep in mind, now that he's on my side." With that he hopped to his feet, grabbed a green apple from a nearby dish, and lightly polished it on his sleeve before he wandered along the table, now tapping Riley on the shoulder. The blond rose, shooting a quick look in Fred's direction, but was unable to hide his smirk in time as he turned and followed George from the hall.

Fred growled in the back of his throat. "That's it, this means war."

He lingered for a while over his breakfast, his dishevelled countenance and glare keeping a healthy berth around him and allowing Fred the space to think. If George and Riley wanted to challenge him, then, well, he wasn't responsible for what happened ... after all, they were the ones playing with fire...

At last, smirking, Fred traipsed over to where the other blond twin was sitting. "Hey, Hunter."

Alex glanced up. "Fred, is it?"

"Lucky guess." Fred's grin broadened and he made himself comfortable on the bench next to him, pushing aside several heavy Transfiguration tomes. "So, I need to ask you a favour."

Alex raised an eyebrow.

"You've proven yourself decent at Potions, my friend, and I need help with a little experiment I'm planning."

"By experiment, I assume this has nothing to do with school work," Alex deadpanned. A week's experience had accustomed him to the Weasley twins' particular devotion to their education, and Fred smirked.

"Ah, hear me out first, Hunter. You'll recall the ... rude awakening I was given this morning?"

Alex nodded, and Fred was rather impressed that he managed to maintain a perfectly straight face. "So, you understand, I need a return gift."

"So, revenge, basically."

"Yes."

Alex picked up his quill, his attention back on his Transfiguration essay. "Well, I don't really see why I should involve myself in this ... After all, your brother will surely return the favour, and then you in return, and it'll all get out of control."

Fred stared at him. "But ... Riley, don't you want to prank him, too?"

"I could care less."

Fred sensed he was losing him; determined not to allow another Percy to grow and mature under his nose, Fred leaned forward and snatched the quill out of Alex's hand.

"I think it would be wise if you did care, Hunter," he said sanctimoniously. "Because, as it were, our prank war will likely spiral out of control, as you said, and bring our entire dorm to ruin." He nodded thoughtfully. "Unless, of course, there was someone to keep us in line ... make sure no one got hurt, and the teachers didn't get involved, otherwise..."

"You're blackmailing me," Alex said in stupefaction, staring back at him.

Fred shrugged. "I'd prefer to call it forceful persuasion. So," he seized a blank bit of parchment, "here's what I was thinking..."

* * *

><p>"I'm not sure this was such a good idea," Alex admitted that evening as the two of them sank into armchairs near the fire in the crowded Gryffindor common room. Across from him Fred shrugged, rubbing his hands together; he had just returned from ... <em>administering<em> the potion upstairs.

"Just watch and learn from the master, Hunter."

Alex stared haplessly back at him. "I can't believe I'm stooping to your level."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fred said airily. "Anyway - it's not like anyone'll know you did it. I'm rather famous around here, you know." He winked exaggeratedly and then stiffened, sighting a familiar flare of red hair emerging from the portrait hole. "Here comes George - quick, help me study something."

Alex rolled his eyes as Fred bent over a thick Ancient Runes manual, his brow furrowed. Calmly he resumed writing his report on Egyptian Runes, the scratching of his quill pausing as George stopped next to their couches.

"Hey," he said amiably. "My, this is new ... Fred, working for once? You must be scarier than we thought, Alex."

"A master of forceful persuasion," Alex agreed with a perfectly straight face. "Come to join us?"

"No thanks, I don't start studying until second week," George countered, glancing around the common room. "I'm actually looking for Riley ..." He shook his head, turning toward the staircases. "Anyway, if you see him, let him know where I am. And Fred ... you might want to study something else, you aren't taking Ancient Runes."

As George disappeared up the staircase Fred tossed aside the textbook and Alex glanced at him haplessly, picking his book up off the floor and dusting off its cover.

"Now you went and made him suspicious."

"Not at all," Fred assured him breezily, "George knows I do odd stuff like that all the time. He'd worry if I actually was studying."

Alex titled his head. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Well," Fred grimaced, "don't let it get out, since it's kind of an embarrassing story."

"That's possible for you?"

Fred smirked slightly, shamelessly. "That's why I added 'kind of'. Anyway, you know Hermione Granger, the would-be-Prefect in fourth year?"

Alex nodded.

"Well, last year, she was taking a ridiculous amount of courses, so I told her so ... and she told me, what was it now? _'Don't mock something if you haven't tried it'._ So I humoured her for a bit, started studying all the weird options she was taking ... maybe followed her to class once or twice..."

"I think that counts as stalking," Alex put in helpfully, and Fred grimaced at him, rubbing absently at a spot on his shoulder.

"Yeah, well ... she cursed me. About five times. Turns out Granger has wicked aim."

"A lesson well to be remembered," Alex noted. "Though I think I'm not too bold to say you're the only one who'd test her patience in that regard."

"Not true," Fred protested, "she slugged Malfoy in the face once."

"...Now that's something I'd have liked to see," Alex said, his eyes widening slightly. Of course, he remembered all too well the Slytherin boy who had called them both Mudbloods on the Hogwarts Express, and silently congratulated Hermione on her accomplishment. He generally didn't approve of revenge, but when the Slytherin was asking for it ... "Riley'd be so jealous if he knew."

Fred grinned broadly at him. "I knew it."

Put on his guard now by Fred's enthusiasm, Alex frowned slightly. "Knew what?"

"That there's hope for you yet," beamed Fred. "Now all we need is -"

A loud scream cut off the end of his statement; in an instant Fred was on his feet, craning his neck toward the boys' staircase as the common room fell into deathly silence. "It came from upstairs," Fred breathed.

Alex said nothing, his hands tightening around the Ancient Runes textbook as a figure came storming into view on the stairs. His robes billowed loosely about him as he clutched a towel wrapped firmly over his head, a deadly icy glare in place.

Riley spotted them, stopped in his tracks, and stabbed a finger in their direction. "FRED WEASLEY, I SWEAR I'M GONNA MURDER YOU!"

"Who, me?" said Fred, blinking innocently.

Riley growled through clenched teeth, fingers twitching toward the pocket containing his wand. Around them whispers broke out and at that moment the towel slipped from its judicious knot. Laughter barked across the room as Riley's hair tumbled into view - once blond, now a brilliant electric blue.

Fred couldn't help it; he snorted out in laughter, and Riley snarled.

"You'd better start running now, because you are so _dead_ when I catch you, Weasley -!"

"Hey, what's going on?" George appeared in the mouth of the stairwell behind Riley, for a moment his eyes settling on the back of his blue head as a look of comprehension dawned on his face. With a slow smirk he turned on Fred.

"Stirring up a little sibling rivalry, are we?"

"You must admit, the blue does suit him," Fred evaded, still grinning. Riley, however, stiffened, and slowly gyrated toward his twin.

"Alex..." he growled.

"I -" Alex began defensively, leaping to his feet.

"So that's what you were planning," George nodded. "Interesting ... I suppose you needed Alex's help with the potion..."

"Hey," muttered Fred.

"Well, Riley, it seems the challenge has been issued," George reported, rubbing his hands together. "A little bit of revenge sounds good to me, what do you think?"

"Let's see it," countered Fred, "Alex and I've got loads more tricks up our sleeves, so to speak."

Riley straightened, huffing his blue fringe out of his eyes as he growled, "Yeah? _Bring it on_."

* * *

><p>That evening, readying himself for bed, Alex Hunter hesitated and glanced over the edge of his trunk.<p>

"Hey, Fred?"

"Yeah?" Fred poked his head around the washroom door, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

"D'you think George and Riley are going to prank us back?"

"Oh, definitely," he said without any trace of concern, traipsing over and flopping down on the edge of Alex's bed, grinning. "I'm looking forward to it. I've already got a few ideas, myself, but if you ever get any spurts of genius yourself..."

Alex shook his head in slow disbelief. "What have I gotten myself into," he wondered aloud.

"Well, g'night," said Fred brightly, leaping off the bed, "and by the way ... if you're thinking of showering anytime soon, I'd recommend against using George's shampoo."

"Thanks, but I'm not stupid."

Fred smirked.

* * *

><p>"You got it?" George said casually as Riley approached his seat in the common room. By now, nearly everyone had gone ahead to bed and the coals in the fireplace had burned low. He caught a flicker of the currently-blue-haired boy's grin as he sank down on the couch next to him.<p>

"That was too easy." He showed George the small bottles clenched in his fist. "Got 'em all. Found 'em in Alicia's trunk."

"Wow," George said, staring at his partner in crime in amazement, "breaking into the girls' dorms when you've been here less than a week ... you might have got us running for our money soon."

"Why?" Riley asked, cocking an eyebrow.

George shrugged, "Took us two years to figure out a way past the enchantments. Ah, well, we were younger then, and ... innocent-er."

"Never mind, I don't want to know." Riley stood up quickly. "Shall we?"

"We shall, Hunter, we shall."

* * *

><p>Alex opened one eye, then the other, cautiously. He breathed out a small sigh of relief that there was no grinning figure standing above his bed with a bucket of water, and so rolled over with a groan, stretching his arms above his head. He sat up and blinked blearily across the room, noting by the flicker of blue that Riley was still in bed; and over on the other side of the room, George, too. Alex sat there a moment, dazed by the sudden opportunity.<p>

_No_ - he shook his head of the ridiculous idea, deeming that he had spent_ far_ too much time in the company of a certain Fred and George Weasley lately. Instead he cautiously lowered his bare feet to the floor and shuffled in the direction of his trunk.

It wasn't until he began a half-hearted search for his clothes that he noticed something amiss; the swatch of color caught his eye and he turned his palms over worriedly, but they were perfectly normal. Blinking and convincing himself that he was merely a bit bleary from sleep, he resumed digging through his clothes and froze once more.

He couldn't stop the loud yelp rising in his throat, but promptly clapped a hand over his mouth, staring in horror at his fingertips, where his nails were now a most vivacious shade of red. All around him the dormitory stirred at his voice, and a yawning Lee Jordan appeared at his shoulder.

"Tarantula escape again? Sorry, mate..." he mumbled blearily, blinking down at him, before he suddenly stiffened. "Oi ... what're you doing here?"

"What are you talking about? It's me, Alex Hunter," he said, quickly plunging his hands in his trunk to disguise his new nails. At that moment Kenneth Towler gained enough consciousness to yell, "A Slytherin! In our dormitory!"

"What -?" Alex's eyes went wide and he glanced around in horror as one of the Weasley twins now wandered over, wand raised.

"What the hell's Malfoy doing - oh, it's you, Hunter," he realized belatedly.

"Well, duh," muttered Alex, allowing his stiffened shoulder muscles to relax, "you've only been living with me for a _week_..."

"You might want to look in the mirror," Riley supplied. Alex, his heart now thumping with foreboding, stumbled to his feet and headed in the direction of the bathroom. When he flicked on the light and blinked toward the mirror his heart flipped over in his chest - his usual messy mop of hair had been slicked back and shined in a near perfect replica of a certain blond Slytherin's. With a faint moan he turned on the tap full force and attempted to splash water on his hair.

"I wouldn't waste the effort," Riley said, leaning in the doorway. "It's this No-Fuss Hair Gel I found, supposed to hold for forty-eight hours."

"Riley..." he bemoaned, staring up at his smirking brother.

"Revenge," Riley said, pointing to his cobalt fringe, "is sweet."

A cry brought the Hunter twins back out into the dormitory, where the Weasley twin - Fred - was now staring at his wand hand in horror.

"What the hell did you do to me?" he made out, brandishing his arm at George. Alex caught a flicker of nail polish - his, however, alternated between red and gold. Gryffindor colors.

George shrugged. "Have fun figuring out how to get it off without asking our dear Chasers. Hell if I know." He turned away, adding thoughtfully, "Oh, yeah ... you might also want to take a look at your toes, we had a lot of fun with that."

Fred looked down at his feet, and his loud cursing promptly filled the room.

* * *

><p>"That's it, this is <em>serious<em>," Fred seethed, toppling an ink pot as he fumbled along the desk in his haste. Seizing a quill and a bit of parchment he wrote, relishing each word. "_Dearest Georgie_ -"

Alex, rubbing a towel through his hair to no effect, peered over his shoulder. "He's not going to believe that."

"I don't care."

Alex sighed and tossed aside the useless towel, holding out his hand. A few wisps of his blond slicked hair fell into his eyes as he said patiently, "Give me that."

Fred hesitated, then handed over the quill and parchment as Alex set to work, a very scary look now in his eyes.

* * *

><p>George frowned slightly, standing in the sixth year boys' dormitory with his hands on his hips. Something was bothering him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.<p>

"Got it," Riley panted, appearing at his side as he hastily looped the tie at his neck. "Sorry. We can go, now."

George nodded distractedly and let his hands fall back to his sides as the two started downstairs. Riley frowned sideways at him, registering his silence.

"Something wrong?"

"Well..." George paused. "It's just strange. It's been twenty four hours and nothing's happened yet. Fred would've responded right away, he's not this patient."

"So ... you think they've given up?" Riley asked as they crossed the drowsy common room. George considered, then shook his head.

"No. No way. If anything ... this means we have to be on our guard."

"Oh."

They headed down to the Great Hall in thoughtful contemplation, Riley now worrying with the end of his tie. It wasn't that he was expecting anything that dangerous, really, but an odd tingle of some mix of anticipation and wild adrenaline ran down his spine, and with each passing second his tension mounted.

"Act natural," George said out of the corner of his mouth as they reached the double doors. "We'll take this as our chance, put the next phase in effect..."

Riley didn't get a chance to ask what the next phase he was planning happened to be, for at that moment his mouth fell open and he stopped in his tracks, staring at him in horror.

"George..."

"What?" George glanced back, impatiently, and did a double take: his eyes widened as the colors on Riley's tie shifted and melded together into green and silver. Swallowing hard, Riley pointed at the front of George's robes, where a serpent badge now glimmered.

"We're Slytherins," he voiced weakly.

"Act natural," George repeated through clenched teeth. As though nothing had happened he turned and continued along the Gryffindor table, an easy smile in place, though his eyes narrowed minutely as he neared Fred and Alex. Riley was on his tail, strides stiffened.

"A clever bit of Transfiguration," George said amiably, making to sit down just as Fred hissed a warning and raised his wand.

"I'm sorry, were you talking to us?" Alex said airily. "I believe your table is over there." He pointed across the room, at the glowering Slytherins. George and Riley exchanged glances; the blue-haired boy's eyes widened slightly with panic.

"They'll kill me, I nearly beat up that Malfoy kid," he hissed, his fists clenching. "Alex, I swear, for this -"

" - You'll kill us, we know," said Fred, lazily flicking a hand in a 'go on' gesture.

"We'll do worse, you'll see," George said calmly, grasping Riley's sleeve. Together, under the watchful eyes of the entire hall, they crossed to the Slytherin table and found a mercifully empty space near the end. George flashed a grin at the nearest diners - who glowered back, and some seemed to reach discreetly for their wands. Riley swallowed hard and hastily followed in his shadow, hoping against hope that Fred and Alex's plan wouldn't get them killed.

"Well." George glanced around from their vantage at the far side of the hall; near the middle the Gryffindors were staring over at them, some laughing. "This is a new perspective."

"You're kidding," Riley said flatly, staring up at the head table, where Professor Snape was now sitting uncomfortably closer to his location, his lips curled back distastefully. "George, you sure this food's safe to eat?" Riley asked in sudden anxiousness.

A soft laugh met his comment, and he glanced sharply across the table to see a girl with short blond hair trying hard not to smile. "I guess it's true what they say about Gryffindors being brave and all. But don't worry, Professor Snape wouldn't try to poison his own house."

"That's a comfort," said George, plucking a roll from the nearest platter. "Though I should say it was less our bravery, and more our brothers being 'forcefully persuasive'."

"In a Slytherin sort of way?" the girl supplied innocently.

"Yeah, actually," said George. "They should be the ones wearing these robes, not us ... though I suppose if Alex looked any more like Malfoy right now he might not live to see tomorrow."

She giggled. "You are far more like us than you'd think. Daphne Greengrass," she added offhandedly.

"George Weasley," he inclined his head, "and Riley Hunter."

"Hi."

Daphne nodded to them. "So, am I to assume you'll be getting your revenge somehow?"

George and Riley exchanged glances.

"Yes -" Riley relished.

"- We are. And the whole school will be able to see it this time."

Daphne smiled slightly. "I'll look forward to it."

* * *

><p>George and Riley spent their day as Slytherins with their heads together, plotting. At lunch they were disrupted by the arrival of an owl who, hooting softly, proffered its foot to George.<p>

"A letter?" Riley asked in surprise. George shrugged and untied the scroll from the owl's leg, unravelling it; he frowned slightly as Riley leaned over his shoulder to better peruse it.

"...A love letter?" he repeated in bemusement. "I didn't think you and Daphne hit it off quite _that_ well..."

"Shut it," said George, good-naturedly punching him on the shoulder. "No, I'd say Fred did it, but it's a bit too ... coherent for Fred."

"Yeah," Riley noted, brow furrowing, "there's a rhyme to it and everything."

"That too. I meant it's legible writing, look."

Riley peered closer. "So it is. So ... not a prank, then?"

George shrugged, crumpling the letter. "Shouldn't be ... it's our turn, anyway." He frowned nonetheless, but put the matter of his supposed secret admirer from his mind as he turned back to Riley and their plans.

* * *

><p>Riley had slipped out an hour before class ended and now dashed down the corridor, skidding to a breathless halt in front of the fat lady's portrait. Shooting a quick glance over his shoulder, he verified he was indeed alone before turning to the portrait.<p>

"Balderdash," he gasped out.

The portrait didn't move.

"I said, Balderdash," Riley repeated, straightening, frowning as the pink lady cast a distasteful look down at him - uncannily similar to Snape's expression earlier.

"Did the password change or something?" Riley repeated, irritated. "Because I need to get upstairs and -"

"This is the Gryffindor Tower," sniffed the fat lady, "I'm not letting in a Slytherin."

Riley stared at the portrait with his mouth open for a good minute, then closed it with an irritated huff. "I've been here a good week and you still think I'm a bloody Slytherin..." he muttered, storming away.

* * *

><p>"Damn," said George, massaging his temples. "So we still haven't got them?"<p>

Riley shook his head, slumped on the couch next to him. George sighed and lowered his hands.

"Right, well, that leaves us with one option."

A tapping on the window next to them pulled him from his thoughts and George stood, meandering over to the window and opening it. An owl flitted inside and landed on his elbow, hooting as it offered out its leg.

"Another one?" Riley voiced warily, making to rise. George shrugged, opening the letter and skimming it.

"Looks like it." He crumpled the letter and tossed it into the roaring fire.

"You don't care who's writing to you?" Riley asked curiously as George rejoined him on the couch. The redhead shrugged.

"No, not really. I mean, if it was legitimate, they'd come and tell me directly."

Riley tilted his head in thought. "It seems like you just don't want to consider the possibility that someone likes you," he said, with a funny look on his face.

George shook his head. "Oi, not funny."

Riley smirked and poked his shoulder. "What if someone_ is_ writing to you, George? What're you gonna do then?"

"Then I'll tell them I'm married to my work," he flashed a wry grin. "I tried the whole relationship thing, believe me, it didn't work out too well."

"Why not?"

"Because of Fred."

Riley raised a bewildered eyebrow. "Because of -?"

But at that moment George hissed, half rising from his seat. "Here they come ... Right, here's the deal, we'll do it," he decided, "while they're sleeping. Can't top that."

"Won't they be suspicious?" Riley whispered back, crouched low behind the back of the couch as they warily watched Fred and Alex draw nearer. "We did ambush them that way last time."

George shook his head. "Have to take the risk. It's when they'll be most vulnerable and ... yeah, it's better this way," he nodded jerkily, then grinned sideways at him, "Shock value and all. See you tonight?"

"Tonight," Riley winked back.

* * *

><p>When Alex woke up, he immediately knew something was wrong: it was too quiet, for one thing, and for another, he was cold ... He rolled over, tucking his body into a tighter ball to conserve warmth; then his eyes widened and he sat up abruptly, a cry coming to his lips.<p>

He wasn't wearing the pyjamas he had worn to bed last night. In fact, he wasn't wearing anything.

A shiver traversed his body and he plunged in the direction of his trunk, uttering a few choice words under his breath. He knew he should have thought to put those defensive wards around his bed...! Of all things, he wouldn't have thought those two had the nerve ... He shook his head, determined that he _really_ didn't want to know how George and Riley had managed it without waking him, and instead focused on finding his clothes. He tossed aside several heavy textbooks as a strange feeling of anxiety mounted in his chest; where were all his clothes anyway? He shook his head, muttering under his breath.

"Of all the times Riley decides to start borrowing my clothes again..." he grimaced, staring at the empty bottom of his trunk.

"Yeah, and not only that," said Fred's voice overhead before the disgruntled redhead appeared next to him, in similar state of undress, his arms crossed huffily. "They've taken all my clothes, and my wand, too. And everyone else's trunk is locked."

Alex shot a glance toward the desk beside his bed and groaned; the space he usually kept his wand was empty, too. "They got us," he said blankly, "they got us good."

"Yeah." Fred shook his head and marched off. A moment later a pair of heart-coated boxers landed on the floor next to Alex, and he looked up with his eyebrows raised.

"I thought –"

"They're not mine," Fred said unnecessarily quickly, "found them on my bed ... some for both of us..."

Alex stared at the thing on the floor, then back up at him. "I don't believe that's sanitary."

"Yeah, well ... it's either that or we go down there starkers."

Alex grimaced and passed a hand over his face, wearily. "You guys are gonna be the death of me, I swear."

* * *

><p>"What's going on?"<p>

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had descended into the Entrance Hall with the thought of an early breakfast, only to discover a thick cluster of students blocking the doors to the Great Hall, whispering to one another. Hermione, standing on tiptoe to see over the crowd, had voiced the query; Ron beside her grimaced as he craned his head.

"I see George," he reported, with a wary tone that preceded trouble. "C'mon."

With Ron in the lead the three of them squeezed a way toward the entrance, all cautious of another of the twins' traps; when Hermione at last ducked out from between two giggling Hufflepuffs and straightened, her eyes widened.

Two of the proud knights usually lining the hallway now framed the double doors, standing at solemn attention; however, they now also sported voluminous boxers that, unknown to Hermione, had been on the bodies of two certain sixth years but a few hours ago. The one on the left also had a red wig, and the one on the right, blond. George and Riley stood between the knights, beaming at one another.

"What are you doing?" Hermione asked of George, hands on hips. He grinned at her.

"Oh, good, I was hoping you three'd be in time for the show."

"Show?" asked Harry warily.

"Yeah..." George gestured grandly. "See this, my friends? This is a prank of epic proportions."

Ron snorted. Hermione, closing her eyes, took a deep breath and forced the words. "Whose are those?"

"Well, what do you know, here they come now," George said brightly. Behind them the crowd split, allowing two bedraggled figures into their midst; whispers and giggles swept the onlooking students as Hermione glanced up and stared incredulously, before mentally forcing her eyes away as she felt a flush painting her cheeks. Fred Weasley and Alex Hunter marched past, wearing nothing but white and red heart boxers, their expressions glowing red, though this was clearly from anger in Fred's case as he lurched forward and seized his twin's collar, dragging him closer.

"Where the bloody hell are my shorts?"

"And the rest of our clothes," Alex put in quickly, his arms clasped over his chest.

George blinked. "Well ... in answer to your first question ..." He pointed to the knights. "As for the second, I can't say right now, sorry, unless..."

"Unless_ what_?" snapped Fred as a fresh wave of giggles broke out.

"Unless you surrender the fight to us," Riley piped up, smirking, leaning against the Alex-knight with his arms crossed. "Admit it. We out-pranked you big time."

Fred jerked his fingers in an expressive gesture at him; Riley shrugged.

"Your loss."

"Wait, our -?" Alex seized Fred's arm. "Hold on, just what_ did_ you do with them?"

"Nothing yet," George evaded, "but we might ... well ... have left them somewhere precarious..."

Alex shot a panicked look sideways at Fred, who glowered at his twin.

"You play like a Slytherin."

"Touché." George winked back.

"Well, we could just ask the Hogwarts population what they'd prefer," Riley said lazily, turning to the crowd. "Well? Who says these two should stay like this ... indefinitely?"

There was much giggling and cheering from the female half of the crowd, and Alex was now trying his best to hide between his armour self as Riley looked on. George held out his hand.

"Well, Gred?"

Fred shook his head. "For this, you know, you're gonna have to watch your back for the rest of your life."

"Don't I know it."

Fred stared at his hand and then, suddenly, threw back his head with a barking laugh; grinning he seized George's hand and shook it up and down. The crowd and Alex looked on in bemusement as he declared, "Fine, you win, this time, Forge." Then, still beaming, Fred lunged at Riley and hooked an arm around his shoulders.

"And you! You turned out to be quite the dark horse!"

Riley looked slightly disgruntled and edged away from Fred in his boxers, as Alex stuck his head out from behind the knight.

"Clothes," he said pointedly.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot." George snapped his fingers and with a sharp _crack_ a small figure appeared at his side. The figure stumbled on the rolled edges of his too-long trousers, blinking up at them with large almond eyes.

"Hey, Dobby," said George brightly, "we're sorry, but we're gonna need all the clothes back now."

"Dobby understands, Dobby will get them right away," the elf nodded, then, suddenly aware of what he was wearing, grinned sheepishly. Meanwhile Alex stared, dumbstruck.

"That's my jumper...!"

A sharp CRACK later, Dobby reappeared in his tea cozy with a large sack of clothes, which Alex promptly dug into and pulled on his robes; Fred shuffled into his trousers as the crowd began to slowly disperse into the Great Hall.

"All right," Alex said, after verifying that they had indeed been given back all of their clothes, and their wands, "now give us back what's on the knights."

"Oh, no, we're keeping that bit," said Riley.

"Consider it a small sacrifice of your dignity in recognition of our supremacy," said George contentedly, instinctively ducking Fred's swipe at his head.

* * *

><p>"So, did you ever figure out who was writing the love letters?" asked Riley as they traipsed downstairs two days later for breakfast. George grimaced sideways at him, but Fred in front of them turned around, grinning broadly.<p>

"Oh, those. I wondered if you got those, you didn't say anything."

"_You_ wrote them?" George and Riley asked accusingly.

"Nope," Fred said, walking backward to grin coyly at them with his arms behind his head. "It was all Alex's doing, that. Suppose it still didn't fool you, though, which's a shame."

"Not on your life," George said flatly. "You both suck at writing love letters."

"Damn," said Fred. Alex pointed out the stairs just in time, and he turned back around. Alex ignored the very disappointed looks shot in his direction from George and Riley, just as he did not look at the underwear-wearing sentinels guarding the doors as the four entered the Great Hall and moseyed to their usual seats.

"So, what now?" said Fred, helping himself to scrambled eggs.

"I have an idea," Alex supplied, "let's just take it easy and do some actual class work for once."

Three voices shot him down, flatly, and Alex merely rolled his eyes before the sight of an owl carting a package overhead caught his attention. The ruffled owl tumbled down toward their spot and with a groan George hefted it off the tabletop.

"Errol." He swiftly untied the package from the exhausted owl's talons and let it hop up on his arm as he frowned at the attached letter.

"Erm – that may just be another of the fake letters," Fred said quickly, making a grab for the package. George, however, pulled it out of his reach.

"Do I want to know?"

Fred and Alex exchanged rapid glances. "Well, there's no point now, you really did one-up us with the shorts stunt and everything –"

George ignored him, and pulled off the bow.

"Shit," breathed Fred, "start running..." Alex nodded, abandoning his toast as he stood up. Riley raised an eyebrow, then leaned over George's shoulder to see as he pulled the top off the box.

First George's ears went red, then his face changed to an interesting shade of purple. "Goddamn it Fred, I'm gonna kill you," he muttered under his breath.

Riley blinked uncertainly. "Is that really...?"

He did not receive an answer as George lurched to his feet, swearing, and grabbed his wand, running in the direction Fred and Alex had disappeared. Riley lingered a moment later, peering into the box, and pushing aside flowery tissue paper he withdrew between thumb and forefinger a very lacy, very black, very obviously feminine bra.

"Ew," said Riley, and dropped the offending item before turning and hurrying after George.

"Hang on, I want to help kill him, too!"

The End

* * *

><p>So ... I had a lot of fun writing this one. :D Please review! (And if you happen to have any ideas for future prank wars, well ... :D)<p>

I'm not sure what's next time, but it promises to be interesting. :)


	5. Never Again

**Double Trouble**

Jedi Goat

Let's fast-forward one month, now, shall we? :)

**Title: Never Again  
>Prompt: <strong>064 - Fall**  
>Summary: <strong>The Weasley twins set out to rectify the fact that the Hunters have never played Quidditch.**  
><strong>

* * *

><p>One balmy evening in early October, the Weasley twins' natural persistence finally paid off.<p>

The wind picked up, scattering fiery leaves caking the ground as they trooped down to the Quidditch pitch, trailed by their reluctant friends. Fred and George each carried two brooms slung over their shoulders, and Fred shifted his grip to grin back over his shoulder.

"So, we've been thinking," he began conversationally, "what with the lack of Quidditch this year..."

"It's only fair if we showed you how to fly ourselves," George picked up for him, also smiling. It had been long months since they'd last taken to the skies over Hogwarts, and both were itching for the thrill again; they couldn't disguise it from their bright eyes, which only succeeded in increasing their friends' wariness.

"Like you two could teach anyone anything," muttered Riley Hunter, tugging absently on his red-and-gold scarf. He had held out the longest in his refusal to join them for a bout of flying, until the twins had stumbled upon the fact he'd never even been on a broom before. After that, well, the combination of typical Weasley charm and the looming threat of humiliation in front of Gryffindor house had dragged reluctant acceptance out of him.

"Please forgive me for not rushing to put my life in your hands." This came from his twin, Alex Hunter, who despite his wry tone was regarding their brooms with mild curiosity. As a veteran at numerous Muggle sports, the idea of a wizarding game played entirely on broomsticks had piqued his interest.

"Oi, George, I think he wounded me," Fred pretended to clutch at his chest and groan.

"Nah, that's just your ego," Riley cut in.

George chuckled, and Fred turned around, not-so-accidentally nearly taking off Riley's head with his swinging brooms in the process. "You're all tough talk now, Hunter," he said with a serious air, "but when we're in the air we'll see what you're really made of."

"Are you calling me chicken?" Riley asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm, well, that would explain things, wouldn't it," said Fred, rubbing his chin. "Not wanting to fly with us for so long..."

Riley's face darkened. "Shut up."

The Weasley twins laughed, the sound carrying on the evening wind as they trooped into the shadows of the high bleachers of Hogwarts' Quidditch stadium. Standing in the midst of the grand arena, red, blue, gold, and green banners fluttering and flaring in the air around them, was enough to make Riley's heart start to hammer in his chest.

"This place is bloody huge," Alex remarked, tilting his head back and shading his eyes from the dying sunlight as he sought out the glimmering golden hoops high above.

"Just wait 'til a game when it's full up," Fred grinned along with him. His smile faded, "Though...I suppose it won't be this year..." Neither of them had quite gotten over Dumbledore's announcement at the start-of-term feast: Hogwarts was hosting the Triwizard Tournament in lieu of their Quidditch season. Of course, the twins eagerly awaited the competition along with the rest of the school, but the lack of Quidditch left an empty void in both of their spirits.

George cleared his throat to get his twin back on track; he tossed a spare school broom to Alex, and Fred handed one to Riley. Riley grimaced; the tattered broomstick looked like it wouldn't be able to hold his weight, nevertheless fly. Several twigs were missing or sticking out at odd angles from the tail, making it look a lot like a plucked dandelion.

"Right then, flying's really simple," Fred said, "just follow our lead."

Alex wanted to point out that he was really horrible at giving instructions. Thankfully, George was a bit more perceptive.

"It's really all a matter of staying in control," George explained. "The slightest touch'll be enough to turn or dive. It's almost like guiding it with your thoughts. You'll get the hang of it –"

"– And besides, so long as we're here, nothing can go awry," Fred cut in. "Shall we?"

They mounted their brooms. Riley nervously swung a leg over his broom as well, grasping the handle tightly – he could feel the prickle of splinters beneath his fingers and grimaced.

Fred kicked off into the air first, and the others hastened to follow suit. Riley shut his eyes, ordered his legs to stop shaking, and pushed off.

He let out a startled gasp as the broomstick shot several feet straight up; _Stop!_ he thought, and just like that the broom jerked to an unsteady halt, hovering in midair. His hands clenched tighter around the handle at the sensation of just hanging there, with nothing beneath his feet. His only support was a wavering twig, at that.

Riley forced those thoughts from his mind and glanced over at the others.

"So, how about a game of tag?" Fred suggested, beaming. "George's it!"

George's complaint of "Oi!" was nearly lost in the wind as immediately the others turned tail and shot off for opposite ends of the pitch. Fred was fastest, already testing the limits of the broomstick's speed as he nearly flung himself flat over the handle, laughing wildly as wind streamed through his hair.

Riley was on his tail, clumsily imitating his movements. A tremor ran down the ancient school broom as it jolted forward, fast as a mustang. His fists were slick with sweat as he struggled to hold on, but still urging it on faster. There was no way he was going to look like a chicken in front of them...!

Eyes streaming, Riley realized Fred was turning up ahead – the three hoops glimmered right in front of them. Riley pulled the broom handle to the left to follow, nearly losing his grip as it jerked around to comply. He knew he was going too fast, on the edge of control; the broomstick shuddered beneath him.

It was then, tight into a turn and over fifty feet above the ground, that Riley realized the source of the broom's uncooperativeness: a long jagged crack down its handle rattled as the broom shot forward. Riley swore that hadn't been there when he had taken off.

At this insane speed, any instant now, the broom would break apart; and now he was blazing low overtop the deserted stands, their colourful red-and-green paint flashing in the corner of his eye. He couldn't slow down; he couldn't adjust his course.

_Shit! _Riley panicked, his heart pounding in his throat._ Shit, shit, SHIT!_

And then, with an ear-splitting crack, the broomstick gave in. Suddenly without anything to support him, Riley was careening downward, clutching broken splinters, nearly blinded by the wind rushing past. The rows of seats rushed up at him –

Over the roaring in his ears he couldn't hear the others' shouts of alarm; he couldn't even hear his own screaming as horrifying images flashed in his mind. Any second now he'd smack into the hard wood stands and be left flat as a pancake...

Something red flashed in the corner of his eye; then a heavy weight struck his side, knocking him off course. "Got you!" a voice yelled in his ear, but they were still coming down, dragged by momentum and their doubled weight.

At the last instant the figure twisted around, hitting the floor of the stands first on his back with a low grunt.

Colors whirled around Riley as they rolled in a tangle, finally coming to a breathless stop against the canvas-covered wall holding them from the dizzying drop to the grass below. Stunned, Riley lay there a moment, panting, his limbs trembling beyond any cooperative movement.

Then through his daze he realized he was on top of something warm and very much alive: he blinked and saw his fists were clenched in the front of George Weasley's robes. The redhead was half-propped against the wall, Riley's head pressed to his heaving chest, the same dazed terror mirrored in his pale face.

"You trying to give me a heart attack, Hunter?" George croaked, managing a weak half-smirk. It was meant to reassure him, Riley knew, but instead his frozen thoughts sparked with fury.

"Are you trying to get us both killed?" he snapped back, shaking his blond fringe from his eyes irritably. He sat up and scanned the area around them rapidly; the broken shards of his broom lay scattered nearby, while George's had rolled under a row of benches.

"You're one to talk," George countered quietly. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"It's not like I did it on purpose!" Riley growled. "This was your stupid idea in the first place!"

George winced at his outburst. "Sorry," he mumbled. Riley stopped short, glancing at him curiously at this odd display of sincerity; some of their pranks made the twins come off as remorseless sometimes, and Riley had lost count of the times he'd been their preferred target. But George truly sounded apologetic.

He hadn't a chance to inquire further, as the remaining color drained from George's face and he lurched forward, promptly retching on their shoes. Riley stumbled out of the way, his anger fading to alarm.

"Hey! George -!" Riley reached for his shoulder, mind racing. He was no good at healing injuries – what if he was seriously hurt -?

"George!" Staggering slightly, Fred landed next to them and threw aside his own broom, crouching beside his twin. He grabbed a fistful of his robes to keep the wavering teen upright. "What's wrong, George? Answer me!"

"'m all right," George rasped after a moment, rubbing his fist along his jaw. "Just...a little dizzy..." With that he slumped back against Fred's shoulder; if possible, his twin's expression was even paler than his.

"George..."

"My God," Riley breathed. There was blood matting the back of his head, nearly camouflaged in his vibrant red hair. He met Fred's stare, and was terrified to see the same bleak helplessness mirrored in his eyes.

"Should we get him to the hospital wing?" Riley asked.

"Yeah..."

By then Alex, too, had landed and joined the cluster. "Let me see." He tilted George's head up gently in his hands, scanning his bleary blue eyes. "He's got a concussion for sure," Alex said, examining his pupils. "We've got to get him to the hospital wing."

"Guess I hit my head harder than I thought..." George mumbled faintly. Fred hushed him.

"C'mon Georgie, up you get." With their combined efforts, Fred and Alex managed to get George wavering between them, each supporting him with an arm. With a pointed look Alex directed Riley to collect their brooms and he then followed them down the stairs, dazed.

It seemed it took forever to traverse the grounds and up the long staircases to the seventh floor wing. However, once they were there, things happened all too quickly: Madam Pomfrey directed them to leave George in the nearest bed (by this point he was so delirious, they resorted to carrying him), shooed off Fred's anxious queries about his condition, and ushered the three boys outside.

On the other side of the hospital door Fred, Alex, and Riley looked at one another blankly.

"He'll be all right," Fred finally summoned the will to speak. "Madam Pomfrey can fix anyone..." He trailed off with a less-than-reassuring waver to his tone. Without George at his side he was different; smaller, less sure of himself. Riley wanted to bolster him somehow – but guilt burned at his face and he instead only stared at his hands gripping the broomsticks, his fists still trembling.

Alex prodded his twin. "Are you all right?" He hadn't seen the fall; with Riley's unusual silence, he could only worry he was injured, as well. His hand gripped his twin's shoulder a bit tighter than necessary, but Riley shook him off with a grimace.

"Fine."

_This is all my fault,_ he realized internally. _He took the fall for me. If he hadn't..._ Riley stopped that train of thought there, blanching. And he, being a selfish prat, actually had the nerve to yell at George for it!

Alex had the sense to back off, and instead offered to take the bulky brooms upstairs while they waited for news. Unencumbered of his task, Riley sank down against the wall in the corner, his arms crossed on his knees, staring blankly at the floor.

A moment later he heard footsteps approach, and blinked to see Fred settle beside him.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Don't blame yourself. It's my fault this happened – I didn't realize that broom was faulty."

"No," Riley shot his apology down flatly. "I was stupid for going too fast." He bit his lip, waiting for the reprimand, his eyes going to the ward door. Alex's voice echoed in his head; _"You've too reckless, you know? One of these days you're going to regret it!"_

When Fred answered, his tone was lighter. "Hey, now, it'll take more than that to do him in." He punched Riley's arm, finally getting a reaction out of him in the form of a grimace and glare. "George's tougher than me, you know. The first time we tested out Puking Pastilles, we couldn't get the antidote to work. He was literally throwing up for twelve hours straight. Yet the stubborn git wouldn't let us cart him off to the hospital wing."

"Thanks, I really needed that mental image," Riley said dryly.

Fred laughed softly, and though he still didn't quite sound like himself, the atmosphere had eased somewhat by the time Madam Pomfrey appeared in the doorway, fifteen minutes later.

In an instant Fred was on his feet. "How is -?"

Madam Pomfrey caught the worry etched on their faces and smiled warmly. "Sleeping now. He's suffered a serious concussion and will have to stay here a few days. I'm quite certain there will be no permanent damage, though he might not remember any of today's events."

Fred's muscles eased as if a large weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Good. I don't know what I'd do if my own twin forgot about me," he laughed weakly, but it was obvious he had been worried. Riley rolled his eyes.

"Probably feed him some cock-and-bull story about how he was adopted from the circus..." he muttered.

Madam Pomfrey interrupted their banter. "I can allow you to see him for five minutes, but only if you are quiet."

Fred and Riley nodded, sobering. The duo followed in her footsteps to a white-curtained bed near the door. Fred somehow restrained himself from running to his twin's side, though he still paled to see him lying there so still and ashen.

"Georgie, you'd better not forget me," Fred whispered warningly, reaching out to brush a hand through his thick red hair. "You can forget Percy though, we'll forgive you for that."

Riley stood a ways back, too awkward to intrude on the brothers. Nevertheless, before Madam Pomfrey hustled them out of her ward, he turned back and mumbled to his sleeping friend,

"Thanks for saving me ... even if you are a right git sometimes."

The End

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><p>Please review!<p>

Spoiler for next time ... the twins take on Hogsmeade! :D


	6. Sunshine Daisies

**Double Trouble**

Jedi Goat

**Title: Sunshine Daisies  
>Prompt: <strong>013 - Yellow  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Sequel to _Never Again._ In which Riley attempts to make it up to George for giving him a concussion. As usual, oddness follows.

* * *

><p>The first Hogsmeade weekend was welcomed with a black-robed tide of bundled-up students swarming the streets and cozy shops of the wizarding village. As it was the midst of October, the wintry weather had held off as of yet, but there was a definite chill haunting the air, and most students proudly bore gloves and scarves in their house colors. Friends called out to one another across the bustling roads; the sweet smell of Honeydukes' candy and the fizzes and bangs emanating from Zonko's Joke Shop fuelled the excitement-charged atmosphere.<p>

Alex and Riley Hunter couldn't help but be enrapt by the exuberance and wonder; as transfer students they'd never seen the village before, and had been conned into a trip to all the major stores along with a drink at the Three Broomsticks on the eager word of all their friends.

In Honeydukes' sweets shop, Riley enthusiastically scanned the shelves upon shelves of bright packages, proudly presenting everything from Pumpkin Pasties to Chocolate-Covered Gnats. He'd never seen such a tempting selection, and Muggle candy didn't stand a chance against things like Sugar Quills and Self-Blowing Gum. He didn't have a lot of money, per say, but he reasoned it was impossible not to splurge a little when presented with such an opportunity.

"Having trouble deciding, are we?" grinned Fred, appearing at his shoulder with an armful of sweets. "How about some Cockroach Clusters, then?"

"I'm not that gullible," Riley shook his head, then eyed his own large stash. "What's all that?"

"Oh, this and that," Fred said vaguely. "I have a bit of a thing for these Fudge Explosions here ... and," he lowered his voice, "they're excellent for product research."

Riley knew all too well about the twins' _research, _having often been a target of it himself; rolling his eyes, he changed the subject as he studied Chocolate Toadstools (now coming in three flavours: White, Dark, and Troll). "Are you getting anything for George?"

"Of course!" Fred grinned and winked as he moved off, "Cockroach Clusters."

Riley shook his head. For two days now George had been in the hospital wing after a Quidditch accident gave him a concussion. In reality, it was mostly Riley's fault, though George didn't remember enough of the incident to blame him. Riley grabbed a few boxes of Every Flavored Beans and some Toadstools, and went to the counter where Alex and Lee were already buying a bulky collection of Chocolate Frogs.

After Honeydukes came Zonko's, Dervish and Bangs, and finally the Gryffindor boys detoured into the warmth of the Three Broomsticks for a drink. The Butterbeer was delicious; it seemed to warm them from the inside out, and though the group was slightly subdued with the absence of one member, they still chatted amiably in the bar for over an hour.

After paying for their drinks, Lee, Alex, Riley, and Fred headed back up toward the castle, when Fred swore loudly: he'd left one of their bulging Zonko's bags back at the Three Broomsticks, and he rushed back to get it. Alex and Lee continued to Hogwarts, not wanting to miss the evening feast, but Riley, hesitating, followed after Fred instead. He suspected it wouldn't be a good idea to leave Hogsmeade defenceless to Fred alone.

Fred recovered their shopping with little difficulty, and breathed a sigh of relief to see nothing had been stolen. They took their joke products very seriously, after all. He fell into step with Riley as they walked along the slowly-emptying streets.

"So, was it everything you'd thought it would be?" he asked jovially.

Riley shrugged. "It's a quaint place."

"Alex's vocabulary isn't finally rubbing off on you, is it?" Fred didn't get an answer; Riley had stopped outside a small flower shop, his gaze distant.

"Oi...earth to Riley..." He moved to stand beside him and studied the display of roses. "So who's this girl you're not telling us about, huh?"

"What?" Riley jerked back to the present and glared at him. "No one! I was just thinking..." He sighed, "Well, when Muggles are sick 'n stuff, they usually send flowers ... like a get-well present, I guess..."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "You're not still blaming yourself, are you?" The wryness had gone from his tone this time, however.

Riley shook his head, "Never mind, it was a stupid thought. Let's go before they eat themselves to burst."

Fred stuck his hands in his pockets as he followed Riley's stiff gait down the street. "Y'know," he began thoughtfully, "I can't say the same about roses, but George's particularly fond of yellow. Don't know why, I prefer blue myself..."

Riley stopped short, a faint smile playing at his lips. "I've got a sickle and three knuts."

"And I've got some spare change. Shall we?"

* * *

><p>Sunday morning, George awoke to the now-familiar white ceiling of the hospital wing. Idly he wondered if Madam Pomfrey would finally see fit to release him today; he'd felt well enough yesterday, but she'd outright shot down his pleas to be allowed out in time for the Hogsmeade trip. Now he sighed and reached up, rubbing at the bandages chafing the back of his head with a faint grimace. Apparently he'd taken a bad fall from his broom in an attempt to stop Riley's suicidal fall. Truth to be told, he couldn't remember any of it, and was quite suspicious by now that Fred was blowing his heroics way out of proportion.<p>

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead," an amused voice broke through his thoughts. Glancing sideways, George met the familiar stare of his partner-in-crime and broke into a smile.

"My, Fred, you're up before noon for my sake? I'm honoured."

"If you weren't already wounded I'd hit you," Fred said crossly, folding his arms as he tried but failed to hide a grin.

"Guess I'd better milk it while I can then," George grinned back.

"You already are," Fred said, pointing to something on his other side. George turned his head and was amazed to see the stand beside his bed loaded down with a large amount of chocolates and candy, among them – he rolled his eyes – Cockroach Clusters, courtesy of Fred. What caught his eye was what topped the ensemble: a bunch of vibrant yellow daffodils. George smirked.

"Spill, Fred, who's my secret admirer?"

"Oh, there's no secret to it," Fred said airily. "We all know who sent them."

"Then it's really not fair to keep me in the dark," George complained, "who is she?"

"Guess," said Fred.

"She wouldn't be one of our dear Chasers, would she?"

"Uh-uh."

"A Gryffindor?" George pressed.

"Getting warmer."

"Is she pretty?"

Fred's grin widened.

"Damnit Fred! Is she at least in our year?"

"Let's just say she's someone you know very well," Fred said, leaning in and fluttering his eyelashes suggestively.

"You sent them, didn't you," George accused, pushing him away. "You bastard. You had me going there for a moment, too."

"But I didn't!" Fred protested. "As horrible as it sounds, I'm innocent here." George snorted in disbelief; Fred huffed faintly and crossed his arms. "Fine, since you don't believe me, I won't tell you who sent them. Suffer in misery while I go enjoy a nice warm breakfast."

George only rolled his eyes as Fred left the room, raising a hand in a see-you-later gesture. Alone, he only partially regretted not having asked Fred to smuggle him some actually decent food; but then, considering Fred's sense of humor, he'd bring something else reminiscent of Cockroach Clusters.

He regarded the pile of sweets in question. Well, at least someone other than Fred had been kind enough to send him something to eat. He picked through the Chocolate Frog boxes (most of which, upon inspection, proved empty – it seemed Alex had been to visit) before coming upon a folded slip of parchment. Curious, he pulled it out and smoothed out the creases. A hasty script met his eyes.

_George –_

_I'm really sorry about what happened. I don't know what lies Fred's been telling, but it really was my fault. I know if I were you, I'd be rightly pissed at me about now... But if you can, somehow, forgive me, I just want to say thanks for saving me._

_I hope these flowers can brighten your day a bit. It must be pretty boring stuck in the hospital wing all day, I mean. I'm sorry, but I don't know how else to thank you. I want to say the words, I really do, but somehow I can't – not without feeling horrible about what happened. Anyway, if you hate them or think it's stupid to send a guy flowers (I kind of do too) feel free to burn them, or whatever._

_So yeah. We all hope you get better soon. Hogwarts is pretty boring without you._

_-Riley_

_PS – Thought you might like more than Cockroach Clusters, so I made Alex share his Frogs._

George looked up once more at the yellow flowers next to his bed and shook his head, a slow smile crossing his face. "You're a bit of an odd one, Hunter, I'll give you that," he mused aloud, "but you've got some guts."

Tucking the letter back in place, he instead reached for an unopened Chocolate Frog and lay back in bed, studying the colourful display. It really did wonders to the drab room, like a ray of brilliant sunshine.

The End

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><p>Please review!<p> 


	7. Twin Baiting

**Double Trouble**

Jedi Goat

**Prompt: **056 - Breakfast**  
>Summary: <strong>Being friends with the Weasley twins is a tough job. Especially when said "friends" decide to make a test subject of Alex Hunter, and the results go awry...**  
>Warning: <strong>Very mild slash. Um ... you'll understand later.**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Twin-Baiting<strong>

In retrospect, he should have realized something was up from the moment he plopped down at the Gryffindor table that morning. As he yawned and blinked sleepily through his blond fringe, Alex Hunter was greeted with identical grins from a certain duo of infamous troublemakers.

"'Morning, Hunter."

"Pumpkin juice?" This offer came from Fred, who passed him the pitcher of juice as he mumbled incoherent thanks. At any other hour of the day he might have taken heed of the almost predatory glint in the Weasley twin's blue eyes as he smiled; however, Alex Hunter was not known to be a morning person. In fact, _he_ certainly wouldn't have chosen to be at breakfast at this hour, but had been disgruntled awake by his twin subconsciously pushing him from bed in his sleep - they had unfortunately switched off sleeping arrangements this week.

Alex piled his plate with sausages and eggs, once again marvelling at the wonder of Hogwarts. Every meal was more delicious than the last; he had no idea where the food came from, though he had every praise for the cooks, whoever they were. At home he was used to, well, things that tasted a rather lot like charcoal, thanks to Riley.

"Anything good today?" he said conversationally, nodding to George, who was peering at the sixth year schedule with feigned interest. Said Weasley grimaced.

"Double Potions this morning."

Alex contributed his own look of distaste before reaching for his drink. As he set down the pumpkin juice he finally noticed both Weasley twins staring at him in fascination.

"Er – what?" Alex dimly realized that he should probably be worried, or running for his life, but at the moment all real thought came to a halt. He sat in a daze as the potion-laced concoction entered his system.

It was at that moment that a figure came storming through the Great Hall's grand doors, tie undone and loosely swinging about his neck, his robes open over his dishevelled outfit, a murderous look in his eyes. Riley Hunter stopped in the empty space next to Alex's seat and slammed his palms down on the table; George's cutlery rattled.

"You," he said, pointing an accusing finger at his twin. "Where. Are. My. Trousers?"

Alex slowly turned to face his twin, who now glared at him with his hands on his hips. But he didn't look concerned – instead Alex's eyes had glazed over with a dreamy look to rival Luna Lovegood.

"Now, don't you think you're better without them?"

Riley gaped with his mouth still slightly open, his brow furrowed as he tried to deduce this comment. "...the hell?"

All thought of finding his lost trousers was lost as at that moment Alex stood up, leaning in uncomfortably close to his brother, an arm snaking around his waist to pull him close to his chest. Ducking his head, he drawled huskily in Riley's ear, "You dirty scoundrel..."

Riley reacted in the only way he knew how. The slap resounded around the hall like a lightning-fast whip crack; the next thing anyone knew, Alex was groaning, pinned face-down to the wood table, a knee pressed to the middle of his back.

And then the explosion came.

"We're _related_...unfortunate as it is...! Sodding bastard...! Godammit, what in bleeding _hell _is your problem? Fuck this..."

Though he was breathing hard, the stare Riley shot in the Weasley twins' direction was scarily cool. They, on the other hand, were watching the scene with their mouths slightly open, as if caught between laughing or being absolutely disgusted. It would've been an amusing sight, had Riley not been furious enough to kill them at the moment.

"What," he said, with an icy voice that could make Death Eaters cry, "did you do to him."

Fred chuckled uneasily, holding up his hands. "It was only a few drops of love potion we were testing –"

"- we'd made it ourselves, supposed to make you fall in love with the nearest girl and..." George trailed off under the weight of his glare.

"We were trying to help him out, honest," Fred jumped in. "Really, it was almost sickening how he was staring after Katie Bell."

"Next time you decide to find yourselves test subjects," Riley snarled, "remember I _know_ where you sleep. I can easily – _liberate_ you from some unnecessary appendages." The Weasley twins shifted uncomfortably. Riley turned away in disgust, still muttering under his breath, leaving Alex lolling groggily on the table in his wake.

Fred stared after his retreating figure, scratching his head. "Blimey..._that_ was mentally scarring. Good thing we tested it on them first and not us, eh, George?"

George didn't respond immediately, so Fred oh-so-kindly awoke him with an elbow to the ribs. George jolted from his thoughts with a grimace, rubbing his side.

"What was that for?"

"Just making sure your brain hadn't melted from the exposure," Fred said with a cheeky smile.

His twin only grimaced slightly before returning his stare to the doors, where Riley had disappeared moments ago; Alex appeared to be now snoring with his head on the table, whether from the after-effects of the potion or not, Fred didn't know.

"Oi, something wrong?" Fred waved a hand in front of George's face; clearly not in the mood for distractions, George caught his wrist in the air. He turned to his twin with a look of pensive thought.

"Fred, the potion's only supposed to affect people of the opposite sex, right?"

"Right," said Fred without missing a beat. "Unless we mucked it up, which I kind of doubt, considering our brilliance –"

"But then why'd he –" George jerked his head at the unconscious Alex, " – react to_ him_ when our dear Chasers are sitting right over there?"

Slowly a grin crossed Fred's face; then he burst out laughing at George's absolutely focused expression. "That's ridiculous!" he gasped out, banging his fist on the table. "You can't possibly be thinking –"

"I'll dump this pumpkin juice on your head if you don't start taking me seriously," George warned, and Fred knew he'd do it, too. Somehow he managed to hold back a grin as he addressed his twin.

"So what you're telling me is, not all is right with our dearest Hunter twins."

"Exactly," George said, still keeping the jug of juice within arm's reach. "In fact, if I may be so bold, I'd say it's one of the twins that's a bit ... _different_."

"Excellent!" Fred rubbed his hands together, a familiar glint coming into his eyes. "Let Operation: Figure Out the Hunters' Sexuality begin!"

And, schemes already filling their dastardly brilliant minds, the Weasley twins headed off to do just that. It was several minutes later when a certain blond woke up at the now-deserted table, sitting up and rubbing his head.

"I need to get more sleep," muttered Alex, flicking bits of scrambled egg off his face.

The End

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><p>I have no idea what just happened. Really. So ... make whatever you want of that. :D<p> 


	8. Double, Double

**Double Trouble**

Jedi Goat

**Prompt: **036 - Smell**  
>Summary: <strong>Fred and George are cooking up another scheme, and it just might be their most daring idea yet. And, of course, they're dragging their 'victims' down with them. So long as Snape doesn't kill them first...

* * *

><p><strong>Double, Double<strong>

_"Double, double toil and trouble_

_Fire burn and cauldron bubble..."_

_-Three Witches, Macbeth  
><em>

_Dearest partners in mischief-making,_

_We've something that might be of interest you. Run along to the seventh floor corridor upstairs and rendezvous with us there. Don't tell anyone where you're going, and for Merlin's sake don't let anyone follow you._

_Cheers,_

_Your Masters of Mischief_

Alex read over the note in his hands with his brow furrowed. Peering over his shoulder, Riley let out an undignified snort. "Masters ... yeah, right, more like an insatiable ego..."

Alex got a thoughtful look on his face and turned to his twin. "Seventh floor corridor ... there's nothing there, is there?"

"So, even if those sodding bastards _are_ just trying to prank us, we wouldn't be much of Gryffindors if we didn't come," Riley said, folding his arms. "Let's go. Not much else to do around here – I swear, I'll kill those two for this."

Five minutes later the Hunter twins tread uncertainly down the deserted hallway, looking around every few seconds for anything that could be a trap. Upon wandering the length of the empty corridor twice, the younger twin stopped in his tracks.

"There's no one here," Riley said flatly. "They were just pranking us. C'mon, let's go."

"Wait." Alex pointed to a door up ahead that he was quite certain he'd never seen before. "Let's try there."

"Probably just a broom cupboard..." Riley muttered, but strode forward anyway and pulled open the door. His jaw nearly hit the floor from shock.

"What the hell?"

Inside was what looked unnaturally like their potions classroom, seven floors beneath their feet. But the damp chill of the dungeons was gone; instead broad windows along the side of the room illuminated a row of work benches where three familiar figures were poring over a large cauldron. At Riley's exclamation the trio glanced up; Fred grinned, George waved, and Lee Jordan was busily stirring the thick concoction.

"Excellent, we're all here," Fred grinned, rubbing his hands together. "I trust you got our message?"

The Hunter twins reluctantly stepped into the room, Alex closing the door behind them. What then hit them was the smell: something like wet fur and old socks, and Riley grimaced as he clamped a hand over his nose.

"What_ is_ that?"

"Potion," George said matter-of-factly. "Used to be worse. You'll get used to it."

As Riley neared their workspace, Alex turned around in a circle, head tilted up at the domed ceiling above, the top disappearing into shadow. He couldn't keep a note of awe out of his voice when he asked, "What is this place?"

"Found it earlier this year," said Fred smugly.

"When we were looking for a place to experiment on our products without – ah – certain people discovering," concluded George.

"Would've been bloody useful for practicing Potions," Riley remarked, peering into their cauldron: a thick, sludgy mixture of a murky green swirled inside, bubbles coming to the surface and bursting like humongous boils.

"Oi, not too close!" George grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Well, why not?"

"It's a teensy bit volatile in this stage," Fred said sheepishly, rubbing his nose.

"Found that out earlier, when this oaf blew up the last one."

"It was painful," groaned Lee. "Two months' work out the window – had to scavenge new ingredients too."

"You've been brewing this for two months?" Alex demanded, staring at them in amazement.

"With the time to start over, it's more like three, yeah," George corrected. "All right – stir counter-clockwise now, Lee, it's been thirty minutes."

"But my arms are about to fall off," groaned Lee. "You do it." George took up the stirring rod and began to stir dutifully; the potion bubbled menacingly and slowly paled to a grassy green.

"So, you said this would interest us," Alex observed, frowning at the potion. "What exactly is it?"

The twins and Lee exchanged glances. "We-ell," said Fred, "it's rather a secret –"

"-Tremendously dangerous –"

"-Not to mention illegal –"

"-and could have us thrown out like _this_ if word gets out," George said with a snap of his fingers.

"So, we need you two to promise not to breathe a word to anyone," Fred warned, eyeing them seriously. "It's not that we like school terribly much, but we do appreciate having our limbs in one piece."

"Mum'd kill us for sure," George winced.

"Like we'd tell anyone," Riley shrugged. "You know we wouldn't."

"We need you to swear to it," George pressed earnestly.

"Say you solemnly swear to keep everything you see and hear here a secret, by pain of humiliation, torture, and eventual death by yours truly," Fred simpered.

"Is that really necessary?" Riley demanded, disgruntled.

The twins stared expectantly at them.

Riley sighed heavily, glancing to Alex. At the same time they recited, "We solemnly swear to keep everything we see and hear here a secret, by pain of humiliation, torture, and eventual death at your hands." Riley's muttered addition was, "but not before I kill you bastards first." The Weasley twins chose to ignore this.

"Good!" Fred grinned. "I think, George, it's time for their first mission as our accomplices in crime."

George nodded and withdrew a sheaf of parchment from his pocket. "Here. These are the ingredients we still need to recover – we've already gathered most of them, mind, but these –"

"These must be from Professor Snape's personal stores!" Alex burst out indignantly. "There's no way they'd let students use these – powdered unicorn horn, simmered dragon's blood...!"

"Well, where do you think we got them the first time around?" Fred said with a note of pride.

"Nicked 'em from his office," Lee grinned, "but he's too suspicious of us now. We can't even walk down there without getting a full inquiry. That's where you two come in."

"We're not stealing from Professor Snape!" Alex said, shoving the parchment back at George. "You don't seem to realize how illegal this is! If you get caught –"

"I'll do it," said Riley.

Alex rounded on him, mouth opening and closing incredulously. "What?"

"I said, I'll do it. I'm not afraid to break the rules," he said with a faint smirk. "Honestly, I think they know exactly what they're doing. I mean, no one apart from us can even find this room – I say, why not?"

"_Because_," Alex said furiously, then seemed to control himself. "All right," he sighed, seeing as he was one against four. "We'll get you this stuff. But only if you'll tell us what exactly you're doing. I won't have you accidentally burning the school down."

"I think you're channelling Granger now," grinned Fred, with a flourish producing a piece of weathered parchment from beneath the table. "Here, now look closely."

"What –" Riley began, peering at the inky lines etched across the parchment. Tiny dots were moving about, labelled in minuscule print.

"Map," Fred said. "Nicked it from Harry – figured you two might need it, inexperienced as you are."

"So that's Hogwarts," Alex breathed in amazement. "And, wait – is that – "

"You can see what everyone's doing," Fred proclaimed. "Right now we're here –" he indicated a blank section along the seventh floor. "So you see, we're not even chartable on this Map, which knows virtually every secret in Hogwarts."

"Your goal," George put in, "is here." He pointed to a section of the dungeons turned off from where their Potions classroom was. "Snape's stores. Right inside his office. He's prowling there now, see. You'll have to find a way to distract him –"

"-borrow the ingredients –"

"-and whip back up here without being seen."

"Child's play, isn't it?" George said with a long sigh. "We'd have come up with something more challenging, but frankly we need those ingredients."

"You're on," said Riley fiercely, grabbing the Map.

* * *

><p>"We must be absolutely mad," bemoaned Alex. Fifteen minutes later found him and Riley sneaking down the cold dungeon corridors, Alex with one eye on the Map in case anyone came their way. Luck was in their favour: as it was a Saturday afternoon most students had somewhere to be, and the Slytherins were milling about their common room or bothering people upstairs. The only obstacle that now remained was Snape.<p>

"I really wish you weren't so ridiculously reckless," he hissed at his twin. "This isn't just mad, it's stupid, and you knew it when you went and said 'I'll do it'. Now we'll get ourselves expelled when Professor Snape sees us – "

"You know, you really piss me off sometimes," Riley countered, also in a whisper. "If _they_ managed it without getting caught, then I'm gonna do it, too."

Alex growled under his breath, but even he knew there was no backing out now. They had made a promise, after all.

"Right, then, this is where we split," Riley said, consulting the Map. "You've got the list?"

"Obviously."

"Good. Hurry up, 'cause I can only give you five, maybe six, minutes." Riley opened his fist, revealing a selection of small orange-wrapped candies. He smiled thinly. "Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Then go!"

Alex checked that the coast was clear and stuffed the Map in his pocket, hurrying across the hall to an abandoned store closet and quickly throwing himself inside. He wasn't a moment too soon: instants later he felt the first explosion rock the hall. Brooms and buckets rattled around him; Alex held his breath, hearing the bang of the door and the muttering of their least favourite professor as he stalked after the source of the noise.

_Nice one, Riley_, he congratulated silently, consulting the Map again. Snape had safely turned the corner; Alex stumbled out of the closet, running for the door left ajar at the end of the hall.

_Perfect!_

He plunged into the dark office and blinked a moment to gain his bearings. A black yew desk stood in front of him, candles flickering on the tabletop; stacks of parchment lined its smooth top – assignments to be marked. Around the walls were shelves upon shelves of little glass vials, some containing liquids glowing luminescent in the candlelight, others with drifting eyeballs and unfortunate small creatures.

Alex blew out a long breath, retrieved the Weasley twins' list from his pocket, and approached the first shelf. He quickly deemed the ingredients to be in alphabetical order – good, that would make his search faster. He whipped out his wand with a mutter of "Lumos" and ventured along the row, peering at dusty labels, occasionally lifting a vial and slipping it into his bag.

"Powdered...powdered... Ah, here we go." He grabbed a jar of what looked like silvery sand, labelled _Powdered Unicorn Horn_. It was the last item on his list; just as he turned to leave the explosion of another Exploding Bonbon echoed in the distance.

"Nox," he commanded his wand, and scurried from the room.

He met up with Riley on the first floor, crouched in an alcove nearly doubled over and gasping. He clenched a fistful of empty Bonbon wrappers. "Have to thank the twins for that," he muttered, running the thin plastic between his fingers, then looked up curiously.

"You got everything?"

"Uh-huh," Alex said, clutching his bag. "Let's move."

They headed upstairs, trying to maintain a leisurely pace and attempting not to jump at the slightest sound behind them. When they reached the hidden door on the seventh floor, they were more than glad to ease inside.

"Did you find it?" Fred asked eagerly as they approached the experiment.

"'Course we did," Riley scoffed. "That was too easy, even for you."

Alex set down his bag gingerly and pulled out the ingredients, laying them on the table for Fred and George to examine.

"Excellent, mate, I think you're due for promotion," grinned Fred.

"Now, instead of errand runners, you can be our personal slaves," George added.

"Whatever," Riley rolled his eyes. "Now what's the big deal? You promised to tell us everything."

"Ah." Suddenly the Weasley twins were both grinning at them, a gleam in their eyes, looking like particularly conniving foxes.

"The ingredients are some Class B Untradeables," Alex observed, frowning at them. "What are you making?"

"That, my friend, is a classified experiment of Weasley Wizard Wheezes," Fred grinned. "We found it in the library, check it out." He hefted a large and ancient book out onto the table labelled in faded ink, _Moste Potente Potions_.

"Turns out Granger has her uses after all," Fred said as he flipped through the pages. "Here."

Alex and Riley leaned in to read the small script of the recipe. "No way," Alex breathed. "You can't possibly..."

"You _are_ insane," Riley said simply.

Fred and George grinned.

* * *

><p>Dumbledore's stare was even over his clasped palms. "Is this true, Severus?" he inquired calmly.<p>

In front of him the black-robed professor bristled. "The ingredients went missing this afternoon," he hissed. "I've told you the specifics. You and I both know there are only a handful of potions in the world that would use those powerful ingredients – and only one with the combination of dragon's blood, unicorn horn, and a phoenix's tail feather, which, if I am to make an educated guess..."

Fawkes gave a loud squawk in the background.

"What are you implying, Severus?"

Professor Snape drew himself up menacingly, eyes flashing. "I believe," he stated, "that someone under this roof is brewing illegal Animagi Potion."

* * *

><p>"Why?" Alex gaped at the twins, unable to say much else.<p>

"Why not?" Fred shrugged. "We figured, since we've had loads of ideas for products involving animal transformation – just for a few seconds, mind – "

"- that we might as well learn how it really works," George grinned, still steadily stirring the potion.

"-'sides, if it works, imagine the fun we'd have – no one would ever catch us sneaking out of bounds again!"

"You're insane," Riley repeated, staring at them. "An Animagi Potion..."

"That's way past NEWT level," Alex argued. "You can't possibly manage it. Even full-grown wizards can't do it."

"Well, brother, I find that rather insulting," George said.

"Just 'cause we don't bother showing our skills in the classroom doesn't mean we don't know it," Fred winked. "Just look at the stuff we've made – we've been experimenting on our own since we've been about five. Not one thing came from Potions class, mind."

"Okay, so what d'you expect to do if you _do_ make the potion?" Riley asked.

"Well, unless Fred mucks it up again somehow," George reasoned, "we reckon we've got enough for maybe five people."

"Hey! That wasn't my fault –"

"So you guys are on the list now, after me, Fred, and Lee, of course," said George, ignoring him. "That is, if you want to become Animagi."

"You kidding? Of course we're in," Riley enthused. "How long until it's ready?"

"Well...we're thinking three more months, tops."

"Three months?" Riley spluttered. "For one potion? For the love of... All right, we'll help."

Fred and George grinned broadly.

"Excellent. Welcome to the club, mates."

The End

* * *

><p>Marauders? Heck yes.<p>

Also: as far as I know it's never been specified in the books how, exactly, one becomes an animagus. So I took some artistic liberties with it. (If anyone has proof/theories to the contrary, though, I would be very interested in hearing about it.)

Please review!


	9. Dancing Shoes

**Double Trouble  
><strong>

Jedi Goat

**Prompt:** 037 - Sound  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Set after the "dancing lessons" scene in the GoF movie. George is determined to teach Riley Hunter to dance, no matter the cost.

* * *

><p><strong>Dancing Shoes<strong>

"Oi, Hunter, you'll never get a date to the ball with your two left feet," sniggered Fred.

"Shut up," Riley said darkly.

The Gryffindor sixth years were on their way upstairs after a lesson from none other than their Head of House, Professor McGonagall, in the etiquette of ballroom dancing. The girls had been positively giggly about it; Riley Hunter was silently fuming; and the Weasley twins concurred that the experience had been mostly...educational.

"To be fair, though, he _was_ better than Ron," George bolstered helpfully, and Fred conceded a thoughtful nod.

"Ah, yes, he did set a new standard for the 'Most Awkward Slow-Dance in History'. Well, lucky for you, Riley, you might get yourself a date after all."

Riley huffed his blond fringe from his eyes. "And I suppose you two are set?"

"'Course," Fred said breezily.

"Who are you going with, then?" Alex intervened, dodging a cluster of whispering fifth year girls to keep up with them along the corridor.

"Dunno yet, to be honest," answered George with a shrug.

"But we figure, what with our dashing good looks –"

"– our charming personalities –"

"– and our ability not to step on girls' toes," Fred concluded, grinning, "we should be better off than the alternatives."

Riley glowered at the back of Fred's head and stalked past them to disappear around the corner of the hall, robes billowing after him. Fred pretended not to notice as he turned back, now beaming at Alex.

"And what about you? You seemed to have hit it off pretty well with a certain Miss Bell."

Alex blinked and rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck, but George missed his reply; he was staring down the hall in the direction Riley had disappeared, frowning slightly. Then, shaking himself from his reverie, he muttered a thoughtless excuse that only Lee, by his nod, seemed to have heard; and with that George left the others to their banter and ducked down the side passage after Riley.

It didn't take him long to catch up with the blond, and, falling into stride with him, George grinned sideways at his friend.

"Where're you off to?"

"Common room," Riley said shortly. "Why're you following me?"

George shrugged slightly. "You're going the wrong way."

Indeed, rounding the next corner the duo came face to face with a dead end in the form of an old tapestry. Riley stopped short, staring at the woven imagery of a wizard forcefully restrained by several large trolls, apparently about to be beheaded. His nose wrinkled, but he didn't stop stonily staring at the tapestry. George looked on with a faintly amused smile.

"You know, Fred's a bit dense sometimes, but he wasn't trying to be cruel."

"I – I know that!" Riley suddenly wheeled around from the morbid artwork, heat rising beneath his collar. "God, it's not that. A lot of stupid stuff's pissing me off right now, that's all, and I feel like crap because of the cold. You didn't have to come after me," he concluded more quietly, his gaze now fixated on the stone floor.

George shrugged again. "If you like, grab a few of our jumpers. We've got loads."

"...Thanks." Riley fidgeted with his collar, still not looking at him.

George hesitated and a half-formed idea at the back of his mind came back. "Y'know...if you wanted to learn how to dance proper, well, I could teach you..."

Riley glanced up sharply. George grinned and slung his hands in his pockets. "Because, not to remind you or anything, but Fred and I are kind of naturals at it."

"You'd really...teach me?" Riley's brow had furrowed with suspicion, but George heard an unmistakeable note of hope in his tone, too, and bit back a grin.

"I've got nothing else to do, so yeah, why not?"

* * *

><p>George now wondered over his words as he stood in the dormitory long after the other boys had headed down to dinner. Though he had a feeling Fred would have laughed them out of the room if he heard about their improvised lessons, George had stubbornly sworn that, one way or another, he would get the younger Hunter to dance. Somehow, it had seemed a good idea at the time, and when he later explained his plan to Lee.<p>

Now that his new charge fidgeted in front of him, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, apprehensively eyeing the old record player that George had found who-knows-where and that was now blaring chintzy waltz music over a crackle of static, George's confidence wavered a little.

But, a promise was a promise, and so he flashed a nonchalant grin and laid out the basic steps, crossing the dormitory floor. "So – step with the music, see? You can count if it helps: one – two – three – one – two – three."

"Like this?" Riley shuffled after him in imitation.

"Uh-huh, just like that."

He leaned back against the bedpost and watched as Riley repeated the waltz steps, his eyes trained on the floor. As he moved unencumbered, his steps quickened and he remembered to lift his feet; he tightened his next turn and shifted immediately to a sliding step to the right, a neat step back. As the blond gained confidence George started to grin, and his mind flashed back to a long ago morning creeping down to the common room and catching Riley Hunter in similar focused form in his martial arts drills.

"One ... two ... three ... one – whoops –" Riley stumbled over a strewn lump of clothing, caught himself on the edge of the nearest bed, and succinctly kicked the pyjamas under the bed before continuing.

"Fred really should pick up after himself, shouldn't he?" George critiqued brightly. Riley didn't answer, completing another circuit of their cramped dance floor before turning back and raising his head triumphantly.

"I reckon I did it. ...Did I?"

"With flying colours," George assured him. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Nah." Riley shook his hair out of his eyes, more at ease now as he allowed himself to grin back at George. "Now, why couldn't they teach us like this? This, I can do."

George clapped his hands and hopped off the edge of the bed. "Excellent. Now that you've got the footwork down, let's move on."

"What's nex-?"

Before Riley had the chance to counteract or even protest, George stepped forward and seized his left hand in his right; he then placed his left hand on Riley's shoulder. "Now," he said in all seriousness, "you'll use that wonderful imagination of yours and pretend I'm a girl, all right?"

Riley stared back at him, eyes wide. "Er –"

"You're imagining, yes?" George pressed.

"I...yeah, okay."

"Good," he said cheerfully, pretending not to notice Riley's palm resting slick against his. "Now, your other hand goes on my waist."

Riley hesitated before tentatively setting his right hand above George's hip. "Don't you...I mean, doesn't this make you a bit uncomfortable...?" he asked George's feet.

"Hunter, I bet Lee I could get you to dance, and if this is what it takes, so be it. And besides," he grinned cheekily, "we're pretending I'm a girl. Or have you forgotten already?"

Riley didn't protest when George tugged at his hand, leading him across the dormitory in time to the music, deftly avoiding scattered trunks and discarded clothes. He kept up a cheerful count even as Riley's hands shook.

"And one – two – _ouch_!"

"Sorry."

George hissed faintly through his teeth. "That was my foot, Hunter, I did like it the way it was." He settled for a sigh and instead loosened his grip. It took a moment for Riley to realize he was supposed to twirl, and he did so very quickly, fumbling for George's side again.

"You're losing focus."

"I don't usually dance with other guys," Riley countered, an edge underlying his tone.

George couldn't resist. "Nah, I'm a girl, remember?" But nonetheless he added more gently, "You count for a while. It'll help."

"Er – okay. One – two –"

George, grinning at him, momentarily lost track of their position in the room; and when he next stepped forward, Riley stepped back onto an open trunk. He staggered and immediately reached for something to anchor himself – his hands closed in the front of George's robes. George opened his mouth in surprise as they both overbalanced and then Riley toppled backward, dragging George down by the tie.

"Ah –"

They hit the floor with a spectacular thump. George came down on top of Riley and felt him gasp for breath beneath him, spread eagled on the floor; but at the same time his head connected with the edge of the trunk and he reeled, blinking back stars.

He hissed through his teeth and clutched at his head, and he dimly felt Riley seize his shoulders, attempting at once to haul him up and steady him.

"Fuck – fuck, I'm so sorry –" a hasty voice said in his ear. George closed his watering eyes briefly, but he managed a weak grin nonetheless.

"That'll be the second time you give me a concussion."

Through his fingers, he caught Riley's sheepish look as he laughed. Mustering his wits George shifted upward on his knees and Riley held to his shoulders while he wavered.

"Though, this time, it was probably my fault," he confessed with a grimace as he now held out his hands to Riley.

"Whoa, clearly, we missed something in here," a wry, very familiar voice broke in, and George blinked up to see Fred standing over the trunk, eyebrows raised.

"Is there something you're not telling us, George?"

He glanced downward, finding himself still sitting astride Riley's waist, the other boy with his mouth slightly open, for once entirely lost for words. George opened his mouth.

"Wait...how'd you get in here?"

"The door, Georgie, it's a wonderful invention." Fred came over and hooked his hands beneath his arms, hauling George up. Meanwhile Riley sat up on the floor, somewhat dazed; otherwise, George was sure he would have been cursing a blue streak.

Fred looked down at him and shook his head slightly. "Hunter, have you had a bad influence on him?"

"Wait...no," George said as his mind finally cleared enough for realization to hit him, and color rushed suddenly to his face. He swatted half-heartedly at the hand on his shoulder. "Get out. And take your overactive imagination with you."

"He was giving me dancing lessons. Nothing more." Riley lifted his chin.

"And he might've given me a concussion."

Fred only shook his head pityingly. "We can't take you two anywhere, can we?"

"Guess not," echoed George, worming his way out of Fred's hold. "Well, that settles it – you can take over from here."

"Wait, what?" two voices repeated incredulously.

George stifled a smirk without turning around. "Fred can teach you the rest. I'm gonna go give Lee his six knuts...and maybe get an ice pack. Good luck, Fred."

And with that he headed out of the dormitory before either of them could protest. His last glimpse through the closing door was of Riley sitting on the floor, Fred looking down at him, both sporting equally suspicious stares.

George leaned up against the door, rubbing vaguely at a growing bruise at the side of his forehead. "You're gonna need it," he muttered under his breath, and grinned.

Well, at least that would keep the two busy for a while.

The End

* * *

><p>Awkward...<p>

Please review!


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